Feast of Feasts
Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany
with St. Francis
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Christmas 1 – Love
Humility, simplicity, compassion, peace, love, creation, and joy are so interwoven in the life of Francis and the Franciscan way that they are difficult to untangle. And Franciscan spirituality, in general, is hard to encapsulate.
Franciscan John Quigley, summarizes Franciscan spirituality this way:
“It is not easy to put into a capsule the spirit and gifts of Franciscan thinking. Its hallmarks are simplicity, reverence, fraternity, ecumenism, ecology, interdependence, and dialogue. Its motto and salutation is ‘Peace and All Good!’”
“Francis believed that God was nonviolent,” he writes, “the God of Peace. This belief may be a simple presupposition for us today, but at the time when the Christian church was waging a Holy Crusade against its enemies, the Saracens, Francis’ interpretation of the Gospel life and its demands was revolutionary. Francis saw it from the viewpoint of the poor, especially from the place of the poor, naked, suffering Christ. He had deep devotion to the God who is revealed as nonviolent and poor in the stable of Bethlehem, as abandoned on the cross, and as food in the Eucharist. God’s meekness, humility, and poverty led Francis to… [identify] with the minores, the lower class within his society, and he passionately pointed to the Incarnation as the living proof of God’s love. He frequently cried out in exasperation with the world, ‘Love is not loved!’”
By its very nature, Love wants to be one with its beloved. That is how our salvation has been announced and realized by an Incarnate God. Jesus Christ’s suffering and death confirms for us just how deeply committed God’s love for his Creation was revealed in the Incarnation.
As Franciscan Friar Richard Rohr notes, “Everything, every scripture, every law, every action, history itself is to be interpreted in the light of the primacy of Love and Christ over all.”
Sunday – A Franciscan Story
Once, when Saint Francis was traveling through the desert of Borgo San Sepolcro, he passed through a walled place called Monte Casale where he met a young and wealthy nobleman who told Francis he would like to be one of his friars.
When Francis seemed doubtful that, because of his wealth, the young man could take on the life of a poor friar, the youth protested that through the grace of Jesus Christ he could do anything. His answer pleased Francis so much that he immediately received him into the Order and gave him the name of Friar Angelo, making him guardian of the Hermitage at Monte Casale.
At that time, three notorious robbers were actively committing all manner of crime in that district. And one day, they arrived at the Hermitage and sought out Friar Angelo, demanding that he feed them.
Appalled that robbers would presume to devour the alms of food which had been sent to the friars there, he told them to leave and never show their faces in that place again. Furious, the robbers left in indignation.
Shortly after the robbers departed, Saint Francis arrived with a basket of bread and a small vessel of wine that he and his companion had begged. When Friar Angelo told Francis how he had driven the robbers away, the Saint rebuked him severely, saying that he had acted cruelly.
Sinners, Francis told him, are led back to God by gentleness. “For,” he said, “our Master Jesus Christ, whose Gospel we have promised to observe, says that ‘they that are whole need not a physician but they that are sick,’ and that ‘He was not come to call the righteous but sinners to repentance’; and therefore, He often did eat with them. Seeing, then, that you have acted contrary to the Holy Gospel of Christ, I command you, by holy obedience, that you immediately take this basket of bread and this vessel of wine and seek them diligently, through mountains and valleys, until you find them.”
Once found, Francis told Friar Angelo that he must kneel before the robbers and confess to them his sin of cruelty, and to pray to them in the name of Francis to do evil no longer. If they do this, Francis said, he would provide for their needs.
So, while Angelo went in search of the robbers, Francis beseeched God to soften the hearts of the robbers so that they might be converted to repentance.
Angelo followed the orders of Saint Francis explicitly, and after he’d confessed and prayed with the robbers, their hearts were turned, agreeing to return with Angelo and begging forgiveness of Francis and God when they arrived. Saint Francis received them “lovingly and benignly and consoled them with many examples, assuring them of the mercy of God.” He explained to them how the mercy of God is infinite, and that even if their sins were infinite, the mercy of God is greater than anyone’s sins. This is true according to the Gospel. As Saint Paul said, ‘Christ the blessed came into this world to redeem sinners.’
Through the words of Francis, the three robbers renounced the devil and all his works, and the saint received them into the Order where they began to do great penance.
Questions for reflection
Has there ever been a time when you felt beyond the reach of God’s love and mercy?
Has anyone ever treated you with love and kindness when you didn’t feel you deserved it?
Monday – A Prayer
Most holy God, you sent the flame of your love to burn brightly among us as Immanuel, God with Us, in the person of Jesus. So enliven our love for you, our neighbors, and ourselves, that we might love not only those who love us, but also our enemies, and all whom you have made. Bring this self-giving love to its fullness in your coming reign where we will abide in this perfect love. Amen.
As Tina Turner so famously sang, “What’s love got to do with it?” Well, according to Saint Francis, and, of course, Jesus, everything.
It’s difficult to speak about love in a language in which saying, “I love this chocolate” or “I love you” to your spouse hold two completely different meanings. English speakers say “I love” so much that it has almost become meaningless.
Not all languages are as deficient as English. As Robert Johnson notes in his book, The Fisher King and the Handless Maiden:
“Sanskrit has 96 words for love; ancient Persian has 80, Greek three, and English only one. This is indicative of the poverty of awareness or emphasis that we give to that tremendously important realm of feeling. Eskimos have 30 words for snow, because it is a life-and-death matter to them to have exact information about the element they live with so intimately. If we had a vocabulary of 30 words for love… we would immediately be richer and more intelligent in this human element so close to our heart. An Eskimo probably would die of clumsiness if he had only one word for snow; we are close to dying of loneliness because we have only one word for love. Of all the Western languages, English may be the most lacking when it comes to feeling.”
And perhaps that is the problem. Perhaps English is deficient because we think of love as a feeling and not as what Christ truly meant by love–an action. Feelings are untrustworthy. Love is an act of the will.
Former Presiding Bishop John Allin said, “It is easier to act yourself into a new way of thinking, than to think yourself into a new way of acting.” He didn’t say, “feel your way.” Love is a choice, a verb.
As Joni Woolf—a parishioner at Calvary, Americus, who assisted in editing these devotions—told us, “Act out what you know to be good. Perhaps it will feel good. It may not. The point is ‘to do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with God (Micah 6:8).’”
Paul defines real love in 1 Corinthians 13:4-8. And if you look at what he says in terms of action rather than feeling it makes more sense:
“Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable; it keeps no record of wrongs; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.”
Clearly, love is not easy. It is an ongoing journey, growing in love as we grow in Christ; giving of ourselves as we remember that love is measured by sacrifice. The sacrifice might be as small as a smile on a day when we feel down ourselves or not saying an unkind word when we are feeling grouchy. On the opposite end of the spectrum, sometimes love can mean sacrificing one’s life. Regardless, as Day 25 of the Franciscan Principles notes: “Love is the distinguishing feature of all true disciples of Christ who wish to dedicate themselves to him as his servants.”
We thank you That through your Son you created us, And that through the holy love you had for us You brought about his birth As true God and true man By the glorious, ever virgin, most blessed, holy Mary…
-Rule of 1221, Chapter XXIII
Question for reflection
Knowing that God has True Love for all God’s Creation and loves everything and everyone equally, how close have you come to experiencing real love?
In this series of meditations inspired by the life of a superhero of the faith we find in Jesus, it would be too easy to have Grace turn to Law, inspiring us to do more and more. Yet within Jesus’ distillation of the Law and the Prophets, we find two words too often ignored: “as yourself.” Jesus did not just tell us to love God with all our heart, mind, soul, and strength, and to love our neighbors. He said we are to love our neighbors as ourselves. This corrective matters as we do not show our love of God by abusing ourselves. We do not best serve others by so immersing ourselves in that service that we lose sight of that command to love our neighbors as ourselves.
When it comes to the ways we serve God, true discernment includes not just deciding what to do, but also in deciding what to stop. We all go through seasons of life, and in those varied seasons, we often have little time to set something down in order to focus on how God is showing up. For the new parents, time with the baby and toddler is so allencompassing that there is little room for much else, and for those with other toddlers in the house, a newborn is all the more a gift that demands time and attention. The same is true when we find ourselves caring for an aging parent. Then there is the compassion fatigue that can hinder our ability to serve as we first did in some ministry from which we need a time of rest.
The main way to do this is setting down some commitment. Love can mean saying no to an opportunity. When we continually do more and more, we are putting trust in our own abilities rather than truly trusting God. The needs of the world are more than any of us can meet. Setting limits is a way of honoring God as much as serving honors God.
Questions for reflection
When have you experienced a season of life in which you needed to set aside some of your previous priorities?
What do you need to stop doing now?
“Whoever gives even a cup of cold water…”
I thought of Jesus’ saying as I looked at the tin cup of clear, cold water, held out by a boy beaming at me. The sun was beating down. I was covered in sweat. Yet, my first thought was of the signs posted all over the neighborhood warning of the danger in drinking the water without boiling it first. I was in the most dangerous part of the big and growing Brazilian metropolis of Belo Horizonte, a city of two million people.
This was 1994 and I was still a few years from starting seminary. I went to Brazil with Jean-Paul, a friend who had been an exchange student when we were together at Georgia Southern. He was making a documentary film on the martial art dance called Capoeira. Capoeira is a uniquely Brazilian blend of gymnastics, dance, music, and fighting.
We were specifically documenting the work of a group of Capoeira teachers who gave free lessons in a deadly slum. In Brazil, you take Capoeira lessons the way one might learn Tae Kwon Do here. To take part, you had to stay away from drugs—whether running drugs for dealers or taking them—and to stay in school. Raimundo, who started the program, and his fellow teachers emphasized the communal aspect of Capoeira to build up a community of hope. They gave respect in a place that taught kids they were worthless. The self-giving service I saw in Capoeira teachers in their 20s and 30s—going back week after week for years to lift up kids who would otherwise be lost and left out—was not a Christian program and yet I saw the agape love of God run through it.
The day before I left Brazil, Raimundo and I rode into Poca Olho on his motorcycle. We found boys from the program playing in the street. Raimundo worked with them on their moves. Then it was my turn. The kids laughed at my awkward attempts at Capoeira. Soon we were playing with abandon in the sweltering heat. When we stopped to catch our breath, a boy I had just been fighting ran off and came back quickly with a tin cup of cold water. I knew he offered it in love, and I could not turn him down.
I never did get sick. Now, when I remember this, I recall that boy grinning from ear to ear as he offered me a tin cup of cool water. This is the world as God sees it. The roles were all reversed. I was the American who had flown down to Brazil with my expensive photography equipment. He was the kid in the slum with seemingly nothing to offer. And yet, it was he who was reaching out to me. He was the host, and I was the guest right there in the street. As our Presiding Bishop, Michael Curry, likes to say, something like that just smells like Jesus. It’s got Jesus all over it. This is what self-giving love looks like.
Questions for reflection
When have you experienced an unexpected offering out of love?
As Francis saw Christmas as the Feast of Feasts, he dreamed of a way to make the otherwise inexpressible love of God real for those who gathered to worship. The setting would be the most important part of the liturgy. Having worshiped in Bethlehem years earlier, Francis knew of a cave near Greccio that he could use to recreate Jesus’ birth. He asked John, a layman he knew well, to make a manger, fill it with straw, and bring a donkey and an ox, to graze near the altar John was to build over the manger in the cave.
By that winter of 1223, Francis was already famed for his pure, simple devotion to Jesus. When Francis called others to join him for Christmas Eucharist in a cave, the crowd was immense. The cave would reveal the humble birth of our savior. Not only was this Mass to be celebrated in a cave, but a live ox and donkey can’t make it through the lead up to the liturgy without gracing the hay with offerings of their own. This was for Francis the ineffable part of the Incarnation. God became human. And in so doing entered into the messiness of human existence. Francis wanted worshippers to experience how God is present in the reality of their daily lives.
Thomas of Celano, who was living closely with Francis, described the liturgy. In beautiful vestments, the Deacon, Francis, chanted the holy Gospel with, “an earnest, sweet, clear and loud-sounding voice; inviting all to the highest rewards….Then he preached to the people who stood around, and uttered mellifluous words concerning the birth of the poor King and the little town of Bethlehem.”
This was the first live Nativity, a reminder of divine simplicity for a church worshiping in Latin, which the common people did not understand, and in cathedrals where the rich and powerful had the places of honor. Francis moved the pomp associated with the liturgies of the church to a place that revealed what was always true: God sides with the poor, the humble, the outcast.
Francis saw the deeper magic of the Nativity: the Holy Trinity could have stood back as righteous judge rather than living among us. But God’s love for us was so great, that God always planned to live among us in the person of Jesus, and thereby entered fully into what it means to be human. This is why Francis invited worshippers to join him in worshiping God in the reality of their daily lives, messy as they may be.
Jesus is Immanuel, God with us, just as Francis illustrated in a powerful way to those who walked by torchlight to a cave outside Greccio. Knowing ourselves to be both fully known and fully loved by the God who loved us before he made us changes everything.