The Saint and the Sultan

The Crusades, Islam, and Francis of Assisi's Mission of Peace

[A mixture of reflection and book review]

May the Lord give you peace.

It seems that the death of bin Laden has had a mixed effect on me, causing me to search for a real gospel approach to the problem of enmity and hatred. Through twists and turns I discovered the book The Saint and the Sultan by Professor Paul Moses. As soon as I entered its realm, I found myself open to its inspiration and nourished by its meaning. What I discovered was the 'sonorous voice of St. Francis' singing a neglected gospel canticle of peace and reconciliation to a world trapped in an unholy embrace of hostility and death.

The author is a journalist, not a historian, nevertheless he utilizes extensive travel and research into the life and times of St. Francis. The Seraphic Saint is revealed beyond the traditional sources through additional chronicles, journals, and documents. There are substantial notes and references, yet its very readable. The portrayal of St. Francis is very convincing, because we see him committed to the gospel in a way that signals his uncompromising belief in the transformative power of love and pardon. (see Article XIX, SFO Rule)

One of the goals of the book is to reignite Francis of Assisi's missionary vision of peace among peoples who are estranged.  To understand what Francis has to say we must first see his conversion in the context of his lived experiences, particularly his intimate contact with war; its bloodshed, imprisonment, and all the other demons that swirl around the battlefield. This perspective is what makes the book a success. It's into this wounded and tortured soul that the seeds of the gospel find their mortified soil.  Now the young Francis is sufficiently transformed to encounter the Savior in his vision.  From here he laucnches into a new life of penance and poverty with no restraint.

The Saint and the Sultan attempts to explain why the message of St. Francis (specifically regarding his attitude toward war) is clouded. According to the author, those attempting to convey the charism of Francis are caught in conflicting cross currents. Then as now, the first casualty of war is truth.  The aura of St. Francis had to pass through a Church mired in difficult circumstances. Even the rivalry within the early Franciscan Order plays some part in altering the sublime message.

Perhaps this 'cover up' is the most controversial claim of the book. Nevertheless, I chose to align with the stated goal of revealing St. Francis as the model of peacemaker in the highest order.  The radical expression of the gospel as shown in the life of Francis remains the more relevant message and overshadows the need to find a conspiracy. 

The Church of his time is in disarray, but we already knew this, since Christ himself spoke to the Poverello…'Francis, go and repair my Church, which you can see is falling into ruin'. The real and imagined heresies bred suspicion and anxiety and raised the specter of severe condemnation, even death to those taking opposing positions. Professor Moses reveals to his readers the historical scene and its relevant characters candidly, yet he meticulously sticks to his theme while sparing his readers a diatribe. This is one of the subtle lessons of the book.

During the lifetime of Francis, the relic of the 'True Cross' accompanied the Crusaders into battle. Thus the Cross became both divine protection and weapon against the foe. One's standing with God was manifested in the winning or losing of the battle; but either way, the mission was deemed sacrosanct. While the worldly Francis would have applauded this, the penitent Francis came to see through it with a more penetrating vision.

For Francis in his journey, the 'True Cross' remains a symbol of victory; but one of victory over sin and death. The power of the Cross is inherent in one's surrender to the Will of the Father, which Christ did in accepting the burden of the sins of the world. For Francis, this giving of oneself to God (for Christians through Christ) is in some manner recognizable in the belief of the Saracens. The term 'Islam' means 'submission to the will of God and obedience of His law'. Francis indeed wanted to convert the Saracens (not merely coexist with them), but he already recognized and affirmed the innate image of God in the hearts of the foe. For Francis, to enter into mortal battle with others contained no glory, but rather came to signify a tragedy; a nullification of the gospel itself.  'Love your enemies, pray for those who persecute you.'

For me there are two important findings in this work. One is a real satisfaction in having contemplated a more lucid understanding of St. Francis; he's always been more enigmatic than I'm comfortable with. For this alone, The Saint and the Sultan deserves to be recognized as a contribution to the understanding of the Poverello. I'm grateful for having seen a new perspective which actually strengthens my commitment to his way of life.

The second finding is the promotion of a message that's been obscure and badly needed. To my mind, the practice of gospel peacemaking as St. Francis shows is not tied to consensus thinking nor does it require the approval of others. It is willing to go it alone with its only requirement being a purified heart and faithful recognition of the divine seed in the other. The other is never evaluated in terms of their moral state or worthiness; love and pardon are extended unconditionally. Even the prospect of a failed attempt at peace is unimportant; indeed it is a distraction, because the work of bringing gospel love and forgiveness is life-giving to the bearer and efficacious to the world, even when it is scorned.

Comments welcomed.  Peace and all good.

God’s Economy is Bizarre

We instinctively suppose we should work from strength, handing on to others the riches that are ours. Instead, we often do our best work when we operate from weakness and totally empty hands, passing on something we do not possess, producing effects we can in no way explain out of who we are. God's economy is bizarre; there is no employment quite as baffling as his. (Thomas N. Hart, The Art of Christian Listening, pgs: 12-13)

Humility is so often misrepresented and poorly understood, but the excerpt above points towards its true purpose and expresses its rightful benefit. Holy humility has less to do with the expression of our personality and more to do with finding our strength in God. This simple understanding is a key to opening ourselves to God's grace; to operating beneficially in God's economy.

We're speaking of the way in which God applies the divine will in our everyday affairs. Our 'Sister', Holy Humility, is not so concerned with annihilating our faults (God can work through them) as she is in releasing the real source of strength, the Holy Spirit, into the lives of those we encounter. Most believers acknowledge the power of God in an overarching way throughout history, yet many discount the unknown spiritual movement that happens daily through our powerlessness.

This is joyful to contemplate. Rather than complaining about the spiritual or material gifts we seemingly lack, we do better in sharing what little we do have. In fact, we can rejoice in our poverty because it allows God to provide his richness in the most wholesome and unexpected manner. It's not nearly as paradoxical as it seems; it's true faith in action.

In the last post I spoke of 'getting out of the way'. Overall, I was referring to impediments of 'self-centeredness' that distort and short circuit the message of the gospel. Even so, it's a wonder to behold how God's will is accomplished more readily, and seen more easily, in our own limitations. We need this awareness (humility) to counter our sense of helplessness, especially when circumstances are beyond our control.

Rest, A Fullness of Gathered Peace

Rest is not idleness; indeed, restlessness is the torment of idle people. It is not relaxation. Relaxation should never be necessary, because the nervous tension which makes it so should never be present. Rest, far from being relaxation, is a culmination, a fullness of gathered peace. Like the fullness and stillness of waters gathered to a flood tide. (Caryll Houselander: The Little Way of the Infant Jesus)

So begins the chapter entitled 'Rest in Christ and let Him rest in you'. Today I'll drift with Caryll's thought as material for a quasi 'Lectio Divina'. But first I should praise Caryll publicly for providing me countless hours of fruitful meditation. Many acclaim her as a mystic, and I've prayed for her intercession; being quite convinced that she enjoyed God's favor even in this life. If you're looking for food for meditation try her writings, as she never disappoints.

Whenever I feel the twinge of restlessness or the pangs of anxiety stealing my calm, I pray that her passage springs to the forefront of awareness, as it is very useful for setting me upon the high path towards peace. Notably, this spiritual 'rest' is not a state of recuperation from fatigue; it may even come in a period of high emotion or zealous activity. I find that it arrives at a time when the heart is pure and the mind is gathered and keen.

When I say the mind is 'gathered and keen' I mean that it is not agitated: that it is not burdened with plotting schemes and the like; though it may be involved deeply in activities of pondering, doing and creating. The heart is pure in that it is not aware of any selfish motives and perhaps not even aware of itself, though it may be in the midst of nurturing, healing, and loving.

Rest is not idleness; indeed, restlessness is the torment of idle people. Inactivity may lead to sensations of impatience, agitation, feeling fidgety or on edge. We should guard our leisure and free time by simply keeping aware of intruding feelings of restlessness and recognizing the need for countermeasures.

Relaxation should never be necessary, because the nervous tension which makes it so should never be present. This is an interesting insight which is challenging. Anyone having read Houselander's autobiography and collected letters knows that she had her share of nervous tension and yet she eventually discerned they signal a lack of peace and rest. I have always valued relaxation because of it's property of reducing stress and tension; and yet Caryll is pointing us toward creating a habit of living in spiritual 'rest' and nipping nervous tension in the bud.

Rest, far from being relaxation, is a culmination, a fullness of gathered peace. The peace that we know as 'Christ's Peace' is the key here. Spiritually we speak of peace, not as lack of conflict, but as harmony with God. "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives." [John 14:27]

Like the fullness and stillness of waters gathered to a flood tide. Flood tide is that entire period when the ocean moves from low to high tide. Its opposite is known as the ebb tide. I spend much of the summer months at the ocean shore where Long Island Sound meets the Atlantic Ocean. Each day is a day to watch the tides bring to culmination, slowly but surely, a 'fullness'. I would imagine there is some peak moment when the tide has reached its potential; when it has fulfilled its destiny. From here the tide is 'turned' and now ebbs.

Looking to the future we imagine the life beyond as 'eternal rest'; a gathering flood tide of eternal life, but with no ebb. 'Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord', is how we pray for our departed friends and loved ones. But to experience some 'eternal rest' in the 'temporal order - here and now' is the gift of the Holy Spirit, offered to the most ordinary of us. A gift given to souls who are willing to live in the harmony of God's peace. A gift to disciples willing to nurture peace even in this 'valley of tears'; where it is abused, neglected and scoffed at. A gift of 'rest' miraculously bestowed even as some select few lift the weight of a heavily burdened cross in the tribulation of daily life. Our gift of 'rest' awaits us here and now, each and every day. Perhaps we can't escape our ebb flows with its daily tensions and distractions, but neither can we avoid the pull of the flood tide, whose culmination is the fullness of gathered peace: our spiritual rest.

More by Example than by Preaching

The following passages are from St. Bonaventure's 'Major Life of St. Francis', [Part I - Chapter VIII]. They explain the reality of the Poverello's conversionary zeal and the importance he placed on witnessing an authentic Christian life before a word leaves our mouth.

Compassion, as St. Paul tells us, is all-availing, and it filled the heart of Francis and penetrated its depths to such an extent that his whole life seemed to be governed by it. It was loving compassion which united him to God in prayer and caused his transformation into Christ by sharing his sufferings. It was this which led him to devote himself humbly to his neighbor and enabled him to return to the state of primeval innocence by restoring man's harmony with the whole of creation.

The words above cannot fully convey to us what graces filled the saint's heart. Bonaventure and the other early writers often describe Francis in affective terms. We rely on external expressions of emotion, to reveal an inner reality that resides in the heart, over and above the intellect. The suffering of Christ on the cross became the 'school' in which Francis received his spiritual education. His 'knowledge' was 'compassion' and his teaching method was contained in his personal sharing of the suffering of others.

Loving compassion made him regard everything with affection but especially the souls which Jesus Christ redeemed with his precious blood. If he saw one of them being stained with sin, he grieved with such heartfelt pity that he seemed to be in travail over them continually like a mother in Christ.

What Francis learned in the 'school of the cross' was to feel the effect of sin on the sinner; not as an abstract or intellectual calculation, but rather as real loss in the way that a mother experiences the injury of her child. The Seraphic Saint 'grieves' for the sinner. For Francis, the devout Christian succors and aids the sinner as a mother does: caring and restoring health to an ailing child.

This was the principal reason why he had such respect for those who preached God's word—by their labor and zeal for the conversion of sinners and their pastoral anxiety they beget children in the name of Christ, our dear Brother who was crucified for sinners. He was convinced that such a work of mercy was more acceptable to the merciful Father than any sacrifice, particularly if it was done in a spirit of perfect charity, more by example than by preaching, more by fervent prayer than by longwinded sermons. [Emphasis added]

"Preach the gospel; if necessary use words", is a widely circulated saying attributed to St. Francis, (though he never spoke it directly). It's often reduced to a cliché uttered for consolation when Christians can't find inspiring words. But Francis was an outstanding preacher and 'preaching by example' was not a fallback for ineffective words. It was (and still is) spiritual common sense that gospel living is integral to gospel preaching. He regarded the compassionate witnessing of a good life as the instrument of conversion par excellence; as a result he deeply lamented that the grace of conversion could be assaulted by scandal and bad example.

St. Francis used to say that we should feel sorry for a preacher who sought his own glory in his work and not the good of his listeners, or who destroyed by the example of his bad life what he had accomplished by his teaching. Such a man was devoid of any true religious spirit. He maintained that an ordinary friar with no claim to eloquence was in a better position because he encouraged others to do good by his good example.

The 'ordinary friar' referred to here is not a priest but a religious penitent. The testimony of their lives stood out in shining fashion; and together with the heartfelt compassion for those who suffered, these qualities had a great effect on accomplishing the mission given to Francis by our Lord at San Damiano: 'Rebuild My Church'. This witnessing by the friars and their secular penitential associates (the third order) breathed new life into moribund souls.

He explained the phrase. "The barren womb bears many" (1 Samuel 2:5) in this way, "The barren woman is my poor friar who is not appointed to bring forth children in the Church. But at the last judgment he will bring forth many, because then the Judge will set down to his glory all those whom he is now converting to Christ by his secret prayers. 'The fruitful mother is left to languish' (ibid) means that the vain and loquacious preacher who now prides himself on those whom he imagines he has begotten by his own powers will see then that he had nothing to do with their salvation."

In this interpretation, the ordinary Christian who holds no 'office' for preaching and conversion, nonetheless has unseen powers in prayer and sacrifice; and even more power by the example of living a Christian life with love and compassion for others; with mercy and forgiveness. They receive no earthly awareness of the 'children they bring forth' into the Kingdom of God. But the Judge of us all will show us the spiritual life we have helped to pass on simply by living our gospel life fully and with heartfelt concern for others.

Picnic with Brother Bandits

(O Seraphic Father St. Francis; long has it been since I have spoken of you and your ways: forgive me. Here is a story of conversion and penance.)

How St. Francis and his 'lesser brethren' (the friars minor) won the souls of bandits by humility and charity [Mirror of Perfection - #66].

A party of bandits who used to hide in the woods and rob travelers occasionally came for food to a hermitage of the friars situated above Borgo San Sepolcro. Some friars said that it was not right to give them alms, while others did so out of compassion and urged them to repent. Meanwhile blessed Francis came to this friary, and the brothers asked him whether it was right to give them alms.

The eternal debate: Who is my neighbor? Are the criminal poor entitled to compassion? Are they suitable candidates for repentance? Some say 'yes': others complain. Enter the Poverello; what does he have to offer? He counsels kindness and compassion for the conversion of bandits: while supplying spiritual guidance for his 'lesser brethren', a path for their sanctification.

And he said to them, 'If you will do as I tell you, I trust in God that he shall win their souls. So go and bring some good bread and wine, and take it to the woods where they live. And shout to them saying, "Brother Bandits, come to us. We are friars, and are bringing you some good bread and wine!" And they will come at once. Then you must spread a cloth on the ground, place the bread and wine on it, and serve them humbly and gladly until they have eaten.

The divine absurdity: Feed the thieves; serve them gladly and with great humility. Doesn't this resemble our Lords own action? Let the cloth cover the ground as the linen covers the altar: offer good bread and wine to them.

After the meal speak to them of our Lord's words, and end by asking them for the love of God to grant your first request, which is to promise not to strike or injure anyone. For if you ask for everything at once, they will not listen to you; but because you are humble and loving they will promise this immediately.

Can this really work, Brother Francis? Will love open their twisted hearts? 'Yes of course, each time they hurt others they do more harm to themselves, though they don't see it.' 'Give them God's words – let the Holy Spirit counsel them through you.' 'You yourselves, my brothers are to be God's Word.' 'They won't see or hear their Savior and Lord Jesus, unless you carry Him within you.'

On a later day take them eggs and cheese with the bread and wine to show that you appreciate their promise, and serve them until they have eaten. And after the meal say to them, "Why do you stay here all day to die of hunger, and suffer so much hardship? And why do you do so many evil things for which you will lose your souls unless you turn to God? It is better to serve God, for He will both supply your bodily needs in this world, and save your souls at the last." Then God will move them to repentance because of the humility and charity that you have shown them.'

'We did as you said Father Francis and we ourselves were filled with the Holy Spirit.' 'When they saw that we came back with food again, and were joyful in being with them, they were moved and amazed.' 'Not only that, but they realized the foolishness of their old ways and asked if they could have our joy.'

So the friars did everything that blessed Francis had told them, and by the grace and mercy of God the bandits listened to them, and punctiliously observed all that the friars had humbly asked of them. Further, because of the friars' humility and friendship towards them, they themselves humbly began to serve the friars and carried logs up to the hermitage on their shoulders for them. At length some of the bandits entered the Order; the others confessed their crimes and did penance for their sins, laying their hands in those of the friars, and promising that henceforward they would live by their own labor and never do such things again.

They confessed and did penance. Eight hundred years have passed and those with the spirit of St. Francis continue to call out: "Brother Bandits, come to us. We are friars, and are bringing you some good bread and wine!"

The Stations of the Cross

A pilgrimage is described as a journey, usually to a holy place undertaken for religious purposes. Our current devotion known as The Way of the Cross has in its origins the desire of early church members to follow the footsteps of Christ in his Passion. It has had a lengthy development which has culminated in the current practice we find in nearly all Catholic parishes. It's a devotion that I practice periodically throughout Ordinary time, especially on Fridays: but it becomes especially moving during the season of Lent.

During this season my parish has a weekly Way of the Cross on Fridays at 3 pm (the hour corresponding to our Lords death). I wish there were more souls present, as the lack seems to add to the melancholy. The priest gives some opening remarks and then proceeds with an alter server as cross bearer. The church aisles become transformed into the Via Dolorosa marked with the fourteen stations. At each station we intone a stanza of The Stabat Mater reflecting the pathos of Our Lady. We conclude with Benediction and The Divine Praises, while incense lifts our prayers before the throne of God.

For the readings we use a popular booklet titled "Everyone's Way of the Cross" (EWTC) by Clarence Enzler. I favor this particular version of the 'Stations'. In it Jesus speaks to us in the first person using a compassionate tone as he reveals his thoughts. He refers to his followers as, 'my other self'. After He speaks to us; we reply in guided thought befitting a heartfelt disciple. If you're familiar with the very popular devotional work "My Other Self" (MOS), written in 1958 with the same style by Enzler, then you'll know the intimacy of having Christ in the present moment.

I find this particular devotion more than a 'recalling' or 'remembrance'. Each station is an opportunity for us to 'be there'. It's easy to envision how what happened in the past, still happens to this day. To witness the Condemnation of Jesus at the 1^st Station is to see injustice rise up and show its face. We recognize its appearance because we have seen it on the news or perhaps even more closely. Somehow time is sidestepped or transcended to the point where the reality becomes present. The Catholic author and mystic, Caryll Houselander, put it this way:

"The Stations of the Cross are not given to us only to remind us of the historical Passion of Christ, but to show us what is happening now, and happening to each one of us. Christ did not become man to lead His own short life on earth--unimaginable mercy though that would have been--but to live each of our lives. He did not choose His Passion only [to] suffer it in His own human nature--tremendous though that would have been--but to suffer it in the suffering of each one of His members through all ages, until the end of time. […]Above all, (the Stations) show, in detail, His way of transforming suffering by love."

This is part of the pain that we must accept in this pilgrimage: this taking up our cross with Christ and following him. We recognize that we must accept what he accepted and be willing to offer love alone—love purified as our token in uniting ourselves with Him. "If you would become my disciple, take up your cross and follow me."

At each Station the priest proclaims: "We adore you O Christ, and we praise you": and those gathered respond, "Because by your holy Cross you have redeemed the world."

Moving to each of the Stations we have a brief glimpse into the whole sordid affair: into our wretchedness that causes him to fall and be bruised; into the pain of his mother as she consented to his sacrifice. We see the crowd, then and now, people of all stripes: his enemies, consumed with anger, righteousness and bitterness; his followers, who bow to the injustice in confusion and fear; those indifferent, who shrug and cast their eyes aside.

Help is required and forcibly obtained, but not out of kindness; rather out of merciless necessity to accomplish the execution. A stranger (Simon of Cyrene) is compelled against his will to carry the cross. Further along, a compassionate unknown figure offers her shawl to wipe his face; and for this she receives the gift of his holy image. We call her 'Veronica', which simply means 'lover of the image'.

We walk by women and children who are crying and upset; the unbounded cruelty passing them by, while goodness is overpowered. Yet Jesus offers them compassion and consolation. He ultimately reaches the place marked for his crucifixion and is stripped of his clothing which has clung to his open wounds.

At the 11th Station Christ speaks (Enzler from EWTC): "Can you imagine what a crucifixion is? My executioners stretch my arms; they hold my hand and wrist against the wood and press the nail until it stabs my flesh. Then, with one heavy hammer smash, they drive it through--and pain bursts like a bomb of fire in my brain. They seize the other arm and agony again explodes. Then raising up my knees so that my feet are flat against the wood, they hammer them fast too."

Our Savior speaks his last from his altar: "Why have You forsaken me?...Forgive them Father…You will be with me in Paradise…There is your mother…there is your son…I thirst…It is complete." Finally, his death is marked by a shudder of the cosmos. The earth quakes, the sky bursts, and the curtain of the temple is torn. Now grief reigns as his sacrificed body is pierced by a lance, un-nailed and buried.

This pilgrimage is now complete. Christ speaks to us once again: "I told you from the start my other self; my life was not complete until I crowned it with my death. Your 'way' is not complete unless you crown it with your life. Accept each moment as it comes to you, with faith and trust that all that happens has my mark upon it. A simple fiat, this is all it takes; a breathing in your heart, 'I will it Lord.' ..."So seek me not in far off places, I am close at hand. Your workbench, office, kitchen, these are altars where you offer love, and I am with you there. Go now! Take up your cross and with your life complete your way."

In our Lord's last days upon this earth he asked his beloved disciples to pray with him, yet they could not stay awake. When he was betrayed and taken prisoner, they ran away. So let us drop what deters us: let us gather ourselves and take up the pilgrimage as fully as possible; even if only to glance upon him with compassion, as he carries the burden of our sins before our very eyes.

Finding Your Spiritual Family

Let me begin by introducing "Paths to Renewal: The Spirituality of Six Religious Founders", by Zachary Grant, OFM Cap.,(Alba House, Publisher - 1997). I attended retreats he gave for lay Franciscans at a period in which the book was in its final stages and therefore acquired a genuine interest in his perspective. Rev. Grant reflected upon, researched and studied this topic for many years. He polled many representatives of the various religious orders and congregations to get their input. This is the source that I am relying upon to bring out issues that I alone am simply not qualified to explain.

In my previous post I remarked that…'as a useful matter...to know which spiritual family you fall into will propel your spiritual life'. I have found that to be true in my own experience; so much so that I hope to explain it in a way that will convince you to pursue the matter.

Though Fr. Grant pursues his calling as a Franciscan, he nevertheless takes great pains to treat the matter in an unbiased fashion. He makes it quite clear that it would be 'arrogant' to claim that any spiritual tradition is better or superior to another, for ultimately we are responding to God who has raised up these spiritual families.

What is characteristic of a spiritual family or tradition is that it embodies 'a spirituality'; which is another name for a 'way', a 'path', even a 'program or system', which guides us towards our calling: Living the Gospel in union with Christ. Let's let the author speak for himself:

"In the Church we have six very different spirituality traditions. All are intrinsically woven into the fabric of the Church's holiness and her devotional practices. Everyone who is sincere about living the Gospel in true disciple-union with Jesus chooses one or the other without always knowing which one is being followed, i.e., without being able to give it a name. Any nuance or emphasis which is added by an individual, including subsequent founders of religious orders or congregations will reflect a difference of experience or a unique and sometimes limited purpose. A "new" spirituality may be known by a different name because it has a very specific priority, but it will be radically Augustinian or Benedictine, Dominican or Franciscan, Ignatian or Teresian. [Emphasis added - pg 34]

So these are the Great Six as he asserts. Why these six and none other, he discusses at length: however it is well beyond the scope of this reflection. When Fr. Grant speaks about 'those who are sincere about living the Gospel…with Jesus', he is not speaking only of religious. The laity have been greatly influenced by these distinctive spiritual traditions. Each spiritual family has contributed to growth in holiness and sanctity among large numbers of individuals in the secular state. Indeed without a strong lay following, they would not be among the Great Six.

[Please note that my purpose here is merely to show the existence of the Great Six traditions. If I were to attempt to explain each of them my ignorance would quickly betray me. Besides, my hope is that you will explore them yourself.]

Did Fr. Grant omit Marian spirituality? No; not at all. Mary is intimately infused in all of the so called 'spiritual traditions'. She is, so to speak, 'where her Son is' and inseparable from him. None of the Great Six traditions could be deemed as such, if not for their embodiment of love for Mary. While many of us experience an authentic personal closeness and devotion to Mary; in the context of this discussion, we can't rightly call this a separate spirituality any more than we can call the 'way of Jesus' a separate spirituality.

So what is it that compels a sincere follower of the Gospel to choose a 'path'; even if unknowingly? It's about answering God's call to draw closer in union with him:

"The motivation which helps us to overcome our fallen nature's propensity toward evil may be as ungallant as the fear of hell. The measure of a response to goodness may come from a sense of obligation toward our Creator, but when it is guided by generous love of Jesus, we call it holiness. When our generosity is total, we call it sanctity. The program or system we follow to maintain a steady progress in holiness toward the goal of sanctity is called a spirituality. And that is what we are speaking about here." [Emphasis added - pg 34]

This is significant because Fr. Grant is informing us not only that these 'families or traditions' exist; but even more, they are 'pathways' for us in our growth of the spiritual life. This is what I was thinking when I made the claim from my earlier post…'to know which spiritual family you fall into will propel your spiritual life'…this is the 'color or glaze of your plate'.

If our spiritual life amounts to more than 'fear of hell'; if our heart responds to more than an 'obligation' which we owe to God; if indeed we are motivated by 'generous love of Jesus': then in fact we are on one of these 'paths'. Isn't this a keen insight and opportunity? Shouldn't we discern 'where we are' and enjoy whatever graces are awaiting us? The first step might be to obtain 'Paths to Renewal'. If you have a collection (small or large) which you refer to as a 'Catholic Library'; then this title belongs in it.

We are nearing the end of what is for me, a very long reflection. Two more points please. Each of the spiritual families has a unique perspective and set of tasks in their relation with Our Lord and his Church. We call these 'charisms' and gifts. One can discern particular language and symbols that have meanings attached to their founders from early days. [The title of this blog is PERFECT JOY which has a distinct meaning to Franciscans and may be completely obscure to others].

This helps to explain why we find some published material more appealing than others. I try to discern which 'spiritual family' is being represented when reading anything written. Sometimes this is as easy as looking for the religious affiliation or initials after an authors name. This uniqueness affects almost everything shared among the traditions. This understanding helps to make me more receptive, (even tolerant), and able to be filled with the intended spiritual message.

This also helps to avoid misunderstandings and unintended frictions. (If Jesus is your 'Lord and Master'… are you offended if another calls him merely 'Brother'?) No where is this more important than in small Church groups or Bible Studies [and dare I add - blog posts].

Finally, I want to emphasize that it is fruitless and arrogant to promote one of these spiritual paths as holier, the best or greater than the others. Even worse is to excessively criticize or accuse any of unfaithfulness. All the spiritual families are constantly in need of renewal and reform: whether it's institutionally or for the benefit of individual members. We must keep foremost in our minds that it is God himself who has called forth these families. As for ourselves, we simply 'discover' the path that God has set us upon. Thus what 'seems best' is really only best for us. Having each of us follow our various paths serves the purpose of accomplishing his Will.

Penance Must Precede Peace

Reflection upon a few paragraphs from Mirror of Christ: Francis of Assisi, by Isidore O'Brien, O.F.M.; St. Anthony's Guild, Paterson, NJ; 1944 [Pgs. 157-158]

He [Francis] who lived so completely the Gospel realized with a clarity grasped by so few the evangelical truth that penance, sincere and strong, must precede peace, as the needle must precede the thread.

The above observation uses an unusually keen image to explain one of the principles of Francis with brilliance. It is so perceptive that we should devote special attention to its meaning and its guidance.

Francis possesses a deep appreciation for the consequence of 'our fallen nature'; the effects of sin and the resulting chaos that distorts all our relations. He preaches penance as the way to 'restore order', which is ultimately what we mean when we speak of 'building peace'. Stated another way, 'peace' is a reflection of our harmony with God. St. Augustine called this 'the tranquility of right order; and a necessary precondition for this state is a change in heart, or repentance. This opens the way for peace.

Francis saw clearly: sin had thrown the whole moral world out of balance; only the practice of penance and co-operation with grace could restore that balance for the individual and the world; only in that balance would men find peace. Therefore he preached penance…

The great announcement of the Gospel is not 'Listen and believe the Good News.' It is clearly 'Repent and believe the Good News.' [Mark 1:15] Repentance begins by acknowledging that we have offended God which results in discord; and subsequently, accepting the 'right order' of God's way - which has among its fruit, 'peace'. Of course, the change we call repentance, is not a one time act. The Seraphic Saint preached that conversion was daily and ongoing. It is strengthened and renewed in daily penitential practices which are vital for those who would bring about peace.

One of the chief goals of doing penance is to draw attention to what is most important and to strip away deceptions and pretexts that hide truth. This invariably involves the difficult process of dying to oneself and overcoming selfishness. Francis describes the Penitent in this way; as one who…'loves the Lord with their whole soul and mind and strength, and love their neighbors as themselves, and hate their bodies with their vices and sins…and produce worthy fruits of penance.'

'Hating one's body with its vices and sin', is to detest whatever it is in our 'fallen state' that causes us to reject God; and as an antidote, to take up the life of penance with the help of grace, to reestablish harmony with God. The penitential life is a sacrificial life: a life in which everything is viewed and judged in the light of God. Priorities are modified or reversed, while simultaneously, trust in 'Abba' our loving Father is strengthened. Peace is gathered as a harvest. Life is nourished in Peace.

… and one on the chief fruits of his preaching was the formation of the Order of Penitents, [The Third Order]: an institution that brought peace to individuals and cities and communities and even to nations...

The Catechism tells us that…'Respect for and development of human life requires peace' [CCC 2304]. It's this characteristic that demands our steadfast commitment and labor. How will we, as today's enlistment in the 'Order of Penitents', account for our time and effort in building peace? Peace as saving ointment and healing balm, (as opposed to faithless 'peacemaking' bombs), for the rest of the world.

To seek political or temporal peace is certainly one of Francis' legacies. Yet it understates what is called for in our vocation as peacemakers. To reveal to fellow human beings the beauty of Peace as 'harmony with God', (and therefore each other and Creation), is the highest form of peacemaking. Those who can see clearly what St. Francis saw, namely the relation between penance and peace; will be delighted to put that insight into practice.

Reading the Prologue to our Rule and connecting 'peace' with what it means to 'do penance' and 'not do penance', will open our hearts and help us to shun chaos and restore right order. "Oh, how happy and blessed are these men and women when they do these things and persevere in doing them because 'the spirit of the Lord will rest upon them' and he will 'make his home and dwelling among them'…"

True Penitents are not glum and their call is never outdated. They are in great demand. They bring something essential to the world: God's Peace.

Unhurriedness Is One of God’s Characteristics

"Unhurriedness is one of God's characteristics and is manifested in nearly all His works. The lightning flash is instantaneous, it is true, but the thundercloud is slow in building. [Volcanoes] may erupt without notice, but their nether fires burn the lava long before it boils out the fault in the earth's crust. The meteor may plummet in white heat through our atmosphere, but it traveled far across space before the pull of our planet dragged it from its trajectory. In other words, sudden phenomena are but the results of processes that work slowly, through fixed laws"... [Isidore O'Brien, O.F.M.; Mirror of Christ: Francis of Assisi; 1944; pg 29]

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Unhurried (adjective): done in a relaxed and deliberate way. (Synonyms): thoughtfulness, consideration, purposefulness.

Conversion, metanoia, and repentance, are all words that imply a change in direction, even a change in state. What has drifted off target is now properly aligned. What was dead is raised to new life. We know that it's God's grace that accomplishes or at least precedes our change.

Our expectations as to how quickly this change should take place can be a hindrance in realizing any spiritual goal; be it a change in sinful behavior, growth in virtue, or the bearing of fruit in the apostolate. In our modern way of life, we have become slaves to fast, quick, and easy. So much so, that we are disappointed when our desires are delayed. We are frustrated when our apostolate is slow in bearing fruit.

What's missing is the awareness of God's 'unhurriedness': His care and purposefulness in all matters. The Divine workings are usually unseen, so much so that we are unmindful of their presence; in the same way that we are unaware of the air we breathe. Perhaps these workings are even mysteriously veiled in order to counter our conceit and prevent us from taking credit for what is truly a gift.

Picture loving parents, sitting in awe watching their toddler play with 'building blocks'. They have no concern for the 'block structure'...that's bound to tumble over. Rather their gaze is upon the beauty of the child: a child who is growing and developing; all according to a mysterious design. Their role is to nourish and sustain proper development…in an 'unhurried' manner…with thoughtfulness, consideration, and purposefulness.

Regarding ourselves, can we look for hidden graces in the 'unhurried' ongoing conversion of each and every day, and pay less attention to 'how high we've stacked the blocks'? Can we discern how the whole and entirety of the activities taking place, in all of the time we are allotted, are somehow contributing, little by little, to our spiritual formation? Again, all of this taking place in a relaxed manner…purposefully…unhurriedly.

Consider St. Paul's conversion. The direct encounter with our Lord on the road to Damascus was a terribly dramatic event. It was as the flash of lightning…the complete change in trajectory of his spiritual zeal. But we should not overlook the long and sustained divine movements that were at work before the conversion. Paul tells us himself that he was"…advancing in Judaism beyond many of the same age, for I was more zealous for the traditions of my ancestors ." He further explains that he was "called and set apart in his mother's womb." (see Gal. 1:14-15) We remember the dramatic, while giving little credence to the 'unhurried' workings. How 'unhurried' the way of God, working even from the womb.

What of our own ongoing conversions? Take the long view. When reflecting upon highlighted moments of great joy, or darkened moments of painful distress; think of the long path that brought you there (like that of the meteor). Pay attention to unnoticed simple events and those habitual behaviors that appear mundane and of no concern. These are actually the nether fires under the volcano, waiting to erupt when the unusual circumstance arrives. This is where God's 'unhurried' transformation is taking place; cooperate with it.

Finally, what of our resistance to conversion, our fear of how daunting the challenge appears? Yes, daunting when looking for sudden and dramatic results. But to cooperate with God's grace over time - full of confidence that unhurriedness is one of God's characteristics; gives us the patience to see and know that roots are taking hold, foundations are being built, and mountains are being moved.

The Leper Heals Francis

An excerpt and reflection from an out of print biography: Some Loves of the Seraphic Saint, by Fr. Augustine, OFM Cap.; Published in 1944; M.H. Gill and Son, Ltd., Dublin; Pgs 29-31.

In describing the conversion process of Francis, Fr. Augustine speaks of various encounters that he had to overcome. The first he called the visible enemies, the second, invisible foes, and the third...the greatest foe of all--himself. This final encounter refers to his own attitude and feelings about people that he feared intensely...lepers. The biographer tells us that Francis' revulsion was surprising; note the reason why.

"Before his conversion, the lepers had always inspired him with disgust. Even the sight of one in the distance filled him with horror and dread. He would never give them alms directly, but always through an intermediary. A hospital especially devoted to their care stood on the plain in the vicinity of Assisi, and whenever he went in this direction on business or for pleasure, to escape the nauseating odor…he hurried past with averted and closed nostrils. This is all the stranger when we remember that the leper inspired great veneration in these ages of Faith. The reason of this veneration was that the Prophet Isaiah represented the future Messiah as a leper struck by God and humiliated. [cf. Is 53 –The Suffering Servant]. Hence the lepers more than all other sufferers were looked upon as an image of the Redeemer, and spoken of tenderly as "the poor of the good God" and "the sick ones of the good God." Christ himself, too, during the days of His mortal life, had great compassion on the lepers, and never closed His ears to their appeals for cure. Legend had also consecrated stories of lepers being changed into Jesus himself in the arms of their benefactors. In spite of all this, however, Francis could not overcome the natural repugnance which the very sight of one excited in him."

The sight of someone radically deformed, disfigured or diseased can cause an emotional response that is extreme and repulsive. Some deep seated fear of the afflicted person; their pain, misery, and alienation; touches us and we naturally look to run away. It's akin to the fear of death, and in some sense perhaps, worse. Whatever is in Francis that must be purified, is holding him back. It's the last battle, so to speak, before he becomes entirely available for God's work.

"But the Lord was leading him by the hand and slowly purifying his sensitive nature. One day as he was riding across the plain below Assisi absorbed in thought, his horse suddenly swerved a little, and, looking up, Francis saw a leper before him asking for alms. His whole soul sickened at the sight, and his first inclination was to cast some coin on the ground, spur his horse and ride away. But he reproached himself in stern tones: "Thou art not yet a knight of Christ if thou canst not conquer thyself."

Francis is aware of the battle struggling within and laments his failure. It is well for us to stop and consider how these terrible moments which we dread, are so vital for us to overcome on our journey toward The Kingdom. If we could only remember to cry out: "God, come to my assistance; Lord, make haste to help." Yet God did come to his assistance.

"The vision in the cave rose up before him, and he saw the figure of the wounded, bleeding Christ reflected in the leper. A wave of pity, compassionate love passed over his heart, and reining in his horse, he leaped down, ran back to the poor sufferer, placed a generous sum of money in his wasted hand, and then, raising it reverently to his lips, kissed it. Before the leper could utter a word Francis had clasped him in his arms, and received, in turn, the kiss of peace from the poor stricken one of the good God. Having borne away the prize in the third encounter, Francis felt that he was now a true knight of Christ."

Francis plunges into the mystery that God works even through suffering to accomplish his will. The leper becomes God's instrument of healing--to Francis; allowing the Divine Person to pour through and dissipate the fear and revulsion that had occupied his heart.

The Point of the Third Order

An excerpt from Pope Benedict's Jesus of Nazareth (pg. 79)

Here Pope Benedict is writing about The Beatitudes, specifically the first...Blessed are the poor/Blessed are the poor in spirit....and after commenting on Francis' most radical response he takes up the role of the lay/secular followers of Francis. He writes;

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"......For [Francis] did not want to found a religious order: He simply wanted to gather the People of God to listen anew to the word---without evading the seriousness of God's call by means of learned commentaries.

"By creating the Third Order, though, Francis did accept the distinction between radical commitment and the necessity of living in the world. The point of the Third Order is to accept with humility the task of one's secular profession and its requirements, wherever one happens to be, while directing one's whole life to that deep interior communion with Christ that Francis showed us." (emphasis added)

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This is for most a lengthy transformation. Initially, these appear as competing interests; the profane (we might even call it mundane worldly endeavors) vs. the sacred aspirations of union with God's will. But each realm makes legitimate claims on our life; and in time we grow in the awareness that it's not competition but integration...a truely sacred secularity. A secular life made holy.

In the early stage of our formation this division of our time between the sacred and profane realms is often seen as struggle. It can cause tensions and frustrations and deprive us of the sought after 'fruit' of our efforts; something as pure and simple as joy.

We need to keep in mind that this 'acceptance with humility of our secular profession with its requirements and tasks while directing the whole of one's life to Christ' does not mean that we merely 'put up' with the mundane circumstances. That would be like 'putting up' with unpleasant conditions for 50 weeks to enjoy 2 weeks vacation.

At some point we begin to understand that the secular world is not something to be avoided or marginalized but brought into the realm of the sacred and lifted up, so to speak. Then we begin to witness our own transformation. For in this 'lifting up of the secular/profane' (and that is exactly what a Secular is called to do) we are responding to our vocation, God's express call to us and his will for us.

To state this another way, The Secular Franciscan in the process of "...directing one's whole life to that deep interior communion with Christ that Francis showed us...." cannot leave the world behind; otherwise he misses or misinterprets his original call to vocation.

For me it is a slow gradual process of meshing my secular life with the will of God; which He reveals to me daily in all my activities if I take the time to listen.