Francis of Assisi, 1226–2026: eight hundredth anniversary of the death of St Francis.
In contemporary society, we rarely think about death, not only because it reminds us that we are limited creatures, but also because it exposes the false security we get from believing that we are masters over time and life. Francis of Assisi, on the other hand, welcomed Sister Death with song, because he understood that death is not the termination of everything but the end that allows us to enter into full communion with God. Indeed, life is a gift that must be given back: “Hold back nothing of yourselves for yourselves, that He Who gives Himself totally to you may receive you totally!” (Letter to the Entire Order 29, FF 221).
At the end of his days, Francis contemplated his life and discovered the presence and action of the Lord everywhere. Thus, in his Testament he repeats, like a refrain: “The Lord gave me, Brother Francis… The Lord gave me such faith in churches… The Lord gave me, and gives me still, such faith… And after the Lord gave me some brothers, no one showed me what I had to do, but the Most High Himself revealed to me that I should live according to the pattern of the Holy Gospel” (Testament 1-14, FF 110-116). This is the same attitude shown by Clare of Assisi when she wrote her Testament, in the last days of her life. In fact, she, too, recognised God as the Divine Giver, to whom thanks must be given for all the gifts he bestows, especially the gift of her vocation (cf. Testament of St Clare 1-2, FF 2823).
The celebration of the 800th anniversary of the Easter of Francis of Assisi invites us to contemplate our life, both personally and as a Franciscan Family, with the eyes of faith, and by doing so, perceive the divine presence and action in everything, even in the difficult and dramatic situations we have experienced or are experiencing now.
It is an opportunity to thank God for all the gifts he has bestowed on us, particularly for the gift of Francis of Assisi and his evangelical life, which has become our charism, articulated in different nuances of discipleship and apostolate, and which today still has the strength to call out to women and men of all cultures, both inside and outside the Catholic Church.
As his passing drew near, Francis said to his brothers: “‘Let us begin, brothers, to serve the Lord God, for up until now we have done little or nothing.’ He did not consider that he had already attained his goal, but tireless in pursuit of holy newness, he constantly hoped to begin again. He wanted to return to serving lepers” (1 Celano 103, FF 500). The Easter of Francis of Assisi reminds us that every day is an opportunity to start fresh, to renew our response to the call of the Lord. He sends us forth as brothers and sisters to the whole world, to bear witness to Him in word and deed, so as to draw everyone to the love of God (cf. Prayer Inspired by the Our Father 5, FF 270).
Finally, celebrating the passing of the Poverello is an occasion to remember that we are all called to holiness, and that like Francis, we are invited to reflect the beauty of the Gospel and of our Franciscan vocation, because “holiness is the most attractive face of the Church” (Gaudete et exsultate 9).
The Guidelines offer four areas for reflection and action. We have drawn from these to offer brief reflections, inviting each of us to pause, pray, and consider how we can live the Franciscan spirit in our daily lives.
Our being in Christ
“Let us refer all good to the Lord, God Almighty and Most High, acknowledge that every good is His, and thank Him, “from Whom all good comes, for everything” (Earlier Rule 17: 17, FF 49).
Reflect: Our life is a gift from God. Like Francis, we are invited to recognise God as the giver of all good and to respond with gratitude.
Our being brothers and sisters
“The Lord gave me some brothers” (Testament 14, FF 116).
Reflect: Francis recognised fraternity as a gift received from God. We too are called to receive one another as brothers and sisters, valuing our relationships and creating spaces where others feel welcomed, heard, and accepted.
Our being in communion
“The Lord gave me such faith in churches” (Testament 4, FF 111).
Reflect: Francis recognised the Church as a gift and sought to live his vocation within it. We too are invited to share the gifts of the Franciscan spirit with others, appreciating the goodness in different cultures and people, and allowing the example of Francis to inspire a more truly human and compassionate world.
Our being in the world
“For this reason He has sent you into the whole world: that you may bear witness to His voice in word and deed” (Letter to the Entire Order 9, FF 216).
Reflect: We are called to share generously the gifts we have received, becoming witnesses of hope and joy through both our words and our actions. Like Francis, we are invited to notice where the Spirit is at work today and to bring the joy of the Gospel especially to those who are on the margins.
Artwork depicting the passing of St Francis of Assisi.
In 2026, we mark the 800th anniversary of the death of St Francis of Assisi. Eight centuries after his earthly journey ended, the seed of the Gospel planted in his heart continues to germinate. His legacy is not simply something to remember; it is an invitation to live differently today.
Francis’ conversion began when the Lord led him among the lepers and taught him mercy. As Francis wrote in his Testament:
“The Lord granted me, Brother Francis, to begin to do penance in this way: while I was in sin, it seemed very bitter to me to see lepers. And the Lord Himself led me among them and I had mercy upon them. And when I left them that which seemed bitter to me was changed into sweetness of soul and body; and afterward I lingered a little and left the world.” (Testament 1-3)
His encounter with those who were poor and excluded transformed his understanding of life. Soon afterward, before the crucified Christ at San Damiano, he discovered the depth of God’s self-giving love. The poor and Christ crucified became foundational reference points for his life.
How can we allow that spirit to take root in us?
1. Choose mercy
Move toward, rather than away from, those who are vulnerable, forgotten, or difficult to understand. Francis discovered that poverty, humility, simplicity, and “minority” become meaningful when they lead us to mercy. Poverty without mercy becomes an idol; mercy without poverty is reduced to ideology.
2. Keep Christ crucified at the centre
Make space each day for prayer, gratitude, and contemplation of Christ’s self-giving love. Let the cross reshape the way you see yourself, others, and God.
3. Live faithfully within the Church
Francis saw the Church, despite its weaknesses, as fertile soil where the Gospel could grow. His devotion to the Eucharist taught him to recognize God’s humility and love in the sacramental life of the Church.
4. Build fraternity without power
Serve rather than dominate. Listen, welcome, forgive, and care for those around you. Francis envisioned a brotherhood rooted in mutual service, humility, and familiarity.
5. Become a person of peace
Let “peace” be more than a greeting. Refuse needless quarrels and judgments; practice gentleness, humility, courteous speech, dialogue, and reconciliation.
The 800th anniversary is a moment to ask whether the seed planted in Francis is bearing fruit in us: mercy toward the poor, love for Christ, fidelity to the Church, Eucharistic faith, humble fraternity, and the witness of peace.
We are pilgrims of hope. Wherever we are, whatever our vocation, we can make Francis’ Gospel spirit visible – one act of mercy, one gesture of fraternity, and one step toward peace at a time.
Peace and all good!
Adapted from Francis of Assisi: A Seed for Eternal Life, a letter from the Franciscan Family in conjunction with the 800th anniversary of the death of St Francis.
On the holy night of Christmas in 1223, the quiet valley of Greccio became another Bethlehem. Francis of Assisi, with burning love for the Lord made flesh, desired to “make memory of that Child born in Bethlehem”, to see with his own eyes the humility of God lying in a manger, to make present again the mystery of God becoming man.
In a cave lit by torches and filled with song, Francis placed before the people a manger with hay, an ox and a donkey. There were no statues or decorations. He wanted everyone to feel the poverty and simplicity of that first Christmas night. It was an act of faith and of deep tenderness – a desire to make the invisible visible, to render present again the astonishing humility of God.
Upon the manger, he placed a portable altar for the Eucharist. There, the Child of Bethlehem was again laid before the people. There, the mystery of the Incarnation and the mystery of the Eucharist met. Through this holy night, Greccio became a new Bethlehem: heaven bent low, and God’s peace spread among those who came in faith and wonder.
The presence of the ox and the donkey, simple yet profound, holds a deep symbolic meaning. Though absent from the Gospel accounts, they appear in the prophecy of Isaiah: “The ox knows its owner, and the donkey its master’s crib; but Israel does not know, my people do not understand” (Isaiah 1:3).
From the earliest centuries, the Fathers of the Church saw in these two animals a prophetic sign. The ox, a beast of burden accustomed to the yoke, represents the people of Israel, who bore the law of God. The donkey, untamed and wandering, symbolises the Gentiles, who lived outside the covenant. Both come together at the manger, united around the Child who is the Saviour of all.
In that humble cave, the ox and the donkey are not mere decorations; they announce the mystery of reconciliation. As Paul writes, Christ “is our peace, who has made the two one, and has broken down the dividing wall of hostility” (Ephesians 2:14). Before the manger, the walls that divide peoples, faiths, and hearts begin to crumble. Francis, who in 1219 had crossed battlelines to greet the Sultan with the peace of Christ, must have seen in these animals a living symbol of that same peace – a peace that unites Jew and Gentile, believer and unbeliever, reason and passion, earth and heaven.
The ox and donkey also speak of us. Before God’s mystery, we are often like them – slow to understand, stubborn, bound by instinct or routine. Yet in the presence of the Child, even the dull and unknowing awaken. Their eyes are opened; they recognise their Master. Thus, the manger at Greccio is not only a symbol of poverty but of illumination.
As Francis sang the Gospel that night – his voice trembling with tenderness, his tongue lingering on the sweetness of Jesus’ name – those who listened felt their hearts awaken. Thomas of Celano tells us that one of the faithful saw a child in the manger awakened from a “deep sleep” at the touch of the saint, adding “Thus Jesus was born again in the hearts of many who had forgotten Him.”
This is the miracle of Greccio. It is also the miracle of every Christmas.
Brothers and sisters, this Christmas, let the manger be our altar; let the Child be born in our hearts. Let the ox and the donkey – symbols of our blindness and hardness – recognise their Lord and bow before Him. Let us rediscover the tenderness of God who became small for our sake, for it is only by kneeling beside that humble manger that we find our peace, our joy, and our God.
A prayer notebook inspired by the Canticle of the Creatures
Inspired by the Canticle of the Creatures, “JOY for God: Journey of Yearning” has been published. This prayer notebook, with short texts, questions, and contemplative art, guides us to recognize God’s presence in our brother Sun and sister Moon, in the stars, in the wind, in water, in fire, and in our sister Mother Earth, until we learn to embrace – without fear – our sister Death, who reveals the essential and opens us to Life. The work is designed for prayer in retreat or on a journey, with family or parish, and arises from the desire to help us write our own “story with God,” starting from our received identity: being loved, called to peace, dialogue, and the care of our common home. For this reason, page after page, the “Praise be to you, my Lord” flows forth again as a humble and hopeful song for our time.
This book collects the writings and artwork of Br. Robin Toha, OFM, of the Custody of Saint Anthony (Malaysia, Singapore, and Brunei), whose writings and meditations are inspired by the prayer and charism of the Friars Minor. From his fraternal and pastoral experience, Br. Robin offers a journey that helps us contemplate, give thanks, and reconcile, turning joy into a concrete service and beauty into a path to God.
For the Christian, what is the singular event that changed history or rather, reality itself? The event that made us who we are – believers in the Lord? One can argue that it is the Resurrection of Jesus. In fact, had the resurrection not taken place, Jesus would have just been one of the many Jewish reformers of his time, destined to be forgotten. The resurrection proved that Jesus was no ordinary man.
The New Testament was written in light of the Resurrection. The Resurrection was the key in re-interpreting everything written in the Old Testament and in deciphering the identity of Jesus. Who was this special person? And how special was he?
Only Jesus rose from the dead, never to die again. Reflection on his life, words and actions, sparked by the Resurrection, led the apostles and early church to declare that Jesus was both human and divine, i.e. God emptied himself to assume our human nature in the person of Jesus Christ through the Incarnation. It was precisely Jesus’ divine nature that enabled him to preach the way he did, heal the way he did, and rise the way he did. Seen from this angle, the Resurrection becomes the evidence and fruit of the Incarnation.
Understanding the Incarnation this way also helps us come to terms with the troubling question: did Jesus have to suffer such a cruel death in order to save us? In a fallen, sinful world, yes. As Jesus himself said, he was destined to be rejected, killed and then rise on the third day (Luke 9:22, Mark 8:31, Matthew 17:22-23), thereby proving his divinity and prompting belief in him.
This uniqueness – Jesus’ ability to hold in perfect union both human and divine natures –allows our communion with God (i.e. salvation) to take place. It is not so much being united with him or to him, as being united in him.
In a sense, we can confidently say that through the Incarnation, God has opened the way for man to be saved – and there is but one way, through Jesus! Being the only means by which the divine and human can co-exist in perfect harmony, Jesus proclaims emphatically, “I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6).
So, coming back to the original question: What is the singular event that changed history or rather, reality itself? Could it be the Incarnation instead? I invite you to ponder on its significance and pray that we will increasingly treasure and accept the longing of God to truly unite us in him.
I am no scholar. I always feel embarrassed when I am called “an expert in Clare” by my brothers. Yet I also feel honoured. After all, I only have a diploma in Franciscan Studies and Spirituality from the Franciscan Study Centre in Kent, England. Ironically though that is what set me on my journey to Clare of Assisi – to understand, discover, and weave her feminine side into my Franciscan inspiration and life.
Clare’s tapestry of Franciscan Spirituality is manifested in her Letters to Agnes of Prague, and I have woven her Mirror Spirituality and Meditation on the San Damiano Crucifix into my Franciscan Spiritual Living Approach. I endeavour to be as Clare encouraged – “Be filled with a remarkable happiness and a spiritual joy!” (1 Letter to Agnes of Prague).
In her Mirror Spirituality, Clare points to the Cross as the Mirror. Gazing at it, considering it, contemplating it, and listening to it let her not only see herself and Christ, but also become the imitation of that relationship reflected in and through the Mirror. Clare evokes this in her Testament to her sisters “to be models and mirrors for others may behold themselves in us”, and this has become a constant reminder of my intimacy with Christ in the Mirror. I am to be a Mirror inspiring those who gaze, consider, and contemplate it become mirrors themselves.
Clare’s intuitive Meditation (4 Letter to Agnes of Prague) on the San Damiano Crucifix combines elements of Lectio Divina and Visio Divina. Just as Francis heard the San Damiano Crucifix speak to him, in her Meditation, Clare is led (leading me) on a journey into the labyrinth of the Crucifix. She begins by reflecting on God’s vulnerability and poverty (my own vulnerability), moves to God’s charity and embrace (God accepts me), then into the depth of God’s love and Self-Giving (God graces me), until finally she is given a contemplative assurance that God is always embracing her (and with me), and calling her “to rebuild”, just as He called Francis.
