A Reflection on Stigmata of St Francis of Assisi
A video reflection by Friar Derrick on the Feast of the Stigmata of St Francis to the staff of Mount Alvernia Hospital and Assisi Hospice of Singapore.
Anthony – Theologian After the Heart of Francis
St Anthony’s humility accompanied his popularity through the ages. Many of us pray to him when we lose things and we may even call him “Doctor of the Church” and not know why. What many do not know is that Anthony had a licence to teach licentia docendi. St Francis, realising that there was a need for his friars to study theology to be effective preachers of the Word and to maintain orthodoxy of faith against numerous heresies, personally wrote him a letter stating that “it pleases” him that Anthony should teach theology, but that he should never “extinguish the spirit of prayer and devotion” (EpAnt). Thus St Anthony became the first teacher of theology in the Franciscan Order.
And teach and preach he did. In a way that led people not to himself, but to Christ. That is humility in action. What grounds his theology is the “poverty and humility of our Lord Jesus Christ”, which mirrors very closely the thoughts of St Francis. St Francis loved to speak of “poverty” together with “humility” in reference to our Lord Jesus Christ, especially in his incarnation and passion. If Jesus emptied himself to assume the form of man, and gave himself up to death on a cross (Phil 2:6), then we, as followers of Christ, are called to walk this journey of self-emptying and kenosis, so as to be filled with the grace of God in order to love and serve our brothers and sisters in creation.
In fact, St Anthony considered humility so important that he called it the source, root and font of all other virtues. “What a person is before God, that he is and no more” is his most succinct definition of humility.
We acknowledge ourselves as we are before God and God sees us as we are and loves us. That is the beauty of Franciscan spirituality, the beauty of simply be-ing. That we appreciate and love the beauty and dignity of our own selves and also of other beings, and thus live this love in fraternity – sharing, serving, sacrificing.
St Anthony also invites us to “the sweetness of contemplation”, to die to the world and live solely for God. It is this desire for God that urges us to a conversion of life in penance, living out our holiness of life in service of all, especially the poor. St Anthony was a man truly after the heart of St Francis, both in words and works, our Doctor of the Church, the one who helps us to find … our way back to God.
A New Way of Looking at the World
St Francis of Assisi is well known for his love of poverty, but he was not born into poverty. In fact, he was born into wealth and privilege, and once dreamt of glory on the battlefield. He thought these were the things that would bring him happiness. It was not until he encountered the leper that he realized that true happiness is found in God alone.
St Francis exclaimed, “And the Lord himself led me among them [the lepers] and I showed mercy towards them. And withdrawing from them, that which once seemed bitter to me was changed into sweetness of soul and body.”
This was the key event for Francis, the one that led him to his conversion. Wanting to imitate Christ, he embraced radical poverty. For Francis, that meant not just renouncing material goods but also putting on the attitude of Christ, to strive to be perfect as the Heavenly Father is perfect, to serve
with humility and charity rather than be served, to be poor among the poor.
As the lepers helped him to overcome his revulsion, he began to show compassion to all, treating everyone as if they were Christ himself. Francis and the early brothers devoted themselves to the care of lepers, who were rejected by society, and to bringing God’s love, peace, joy and hope to those were desolate. The brothers began to look beyond themselves and began to seek to comfort those who were suffering physically and emotionally.
The more Francis immersed himself in serving others, putting his faith in action, the more he was drawn to empty himself, even to going the extra mile for the sake of others. He found his ability to love magnified every day, and this led him to strive to perpetually seek God’s will in his life.
Francis’ quest led him to the knowledge that our God is the “Most High Glorious God”, a God who is love, mercy and compassion. In steadfastly following the will of God in his life, Francis began to experience life to the full. He felt a strong sense of God in his daily life, and the awareness of
God’s presence within him gave him a new way of looking at the world.
He began to see God’s presence in others. “What was bitter was changed into sweetness” for him for he was able to discover the dignity and beauty of each person, whether they are rich or poor, healthy or sick, strong or weak, young or old. They were all God’s beloved children. He found that all
of creation manifested the beauty of God.
It was God’s gift to him. As Francis rightly put it “the Lord himself led me among them”. Francis knew that God’s gifts were to be shared with others. As he experienced life to the full, he wanted others to also have meaningful lives. For he knew that it is in mutual sharing, in washing each other’s feet that God’s reign is manifested among us.
Passing as a Pilgrim with St Francis
Caught up in life and its vicissitudes, we can begin to believe the great myth of human ego that this earthly life lasts forever and then, when Sister Death draws near to us, we are lost in panic, lost in pain. We are simply lost, and we hold out against her, not knowing that her gentle purpose is to bring us home. We have forgotten how to die.
St Francis remembered how to die. He knew that when we face the embrace of our sister when it comes, we must do so with love. We must yield to her, and allow ourselves to be ushered by her into the Divine Presence, and for this to happen in such a gentle way, we must practice dying.
We must die, every day, just a little. We must die to our self, die to our false self, die to every part of us that is the accretion of property and wealth for their own sake. We must die to the use of others, die to holding on to power so as to dominate, and even and especially die to the belief that we are at the centre of all things.
Francis himself died to each of these.
He died to the rich home and sumptuous clothes of his youth and to the joy a young man takes in his own vigour and power. He died to the rich young man, who was the toast of Assisi and the centre of attention, known as “Master of the Revels”. He died to his family’s longing to see him raise their profile and their fortune. He died to the noble knight whose armour was forged from the ambition of his father and the myths that filled the head of a young boy who believed war was noble.
He died to the pride that saw only the sores of the lepers and not their souls. He died to the embarrassment of the poor man who begs for his living from door to door. He died to the rejection of some and the adulation of many. He died to the opinion of bishops and princes, popes and kings.
He died to the fear that the brotherhood would not listen … and would not follow. He died to the desire to be a martyr. He died to the fear of suffering and pain. He died to his own flesh, to the world, to the devil. He died to his own will. He died upon the Cross with Christ.
And in so doing, he remembered how to die, teaching us how to die so that one might truly live.
“Death, where is your Sting? Death, where is your Victory?”
St Paul almost seems to be taunting death with these two questions in his first letter to the Corinthians. And I am wondering how many of us have the audacity to do that.
The culture of death seems to be around us where the voiceless have no right to life and the pain-filled have the right to end life. Diseases and disasters, pride and profit become tentacles of death – an end from which no living person
can escape. Majestic royalty or meagre rogue, all fall within the clutches of death. Doesn’t death appear to win eventually?
No, and never with Christ. St Paul follows his questions with a confident affirmation, “so let us thank God for giving us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ”. Victory does not belong to death. Instead, death has been destroyed by God. How? By the willingness of Jesus Christ to enter into his Passion where he embraced death (death which cannot contain life itself ), and then, burst forth from the tomb having been raised to new life in the resurrection. That is what we celebrate at the Triduum, particularly in Easter! Death gives way to Life!
I say that Jesus embraced death because it was a sacred and free act of his. Consummatum est, we read in John 19:30; it is consummated or accomplished or finished, depending on the English translation. What is accomplished? The saving act
of Christ which culminated on the cross, where the cross of shame becomes the throne of glory. In obedience to God, Jesus countered the disobedience of Satan. In the utter humility of dying naked on the cross, Jesus shamed the pride of the evil one.
We continue to read in John 19 that Jesus gave up the spirit. Jesus is in control. He is not a passive victim of an unjust trial, but a director in bringing forth justice and salvation for all. And perhaps, even psychologically, the example of Jesus can help us face death and face the process of dying: to “take charge” of our own life and death, and how we die.
I sometimes see people who, having been diagnosed with cancer, live as if they have already lost the fight, but I have also seen others battle on and live fully until the very last minute. I would like to mention Venerable Antonietta Meo, an Italian girl who died from aggressive bone cancer just before she turned seven. Despite her young age, she serenely embraced her illness and united her tremendous sufferings with that of Jesus’ Passion. Today, her remains are held in the Church of the Holy Cross in Rome, very near the relics of the true cross, and the process towards her sainthood is underway because she could see her suffering in the light of Christ’s.
Similarly for St Francis; as he neared his end, he called out to Sister Death and welcomed her. He even composed a stanza on Sister Death within the Canticle of Brother Sun.
Praised be You, my Lord,
through our Sister Bodily Death,
from whom no one living can escape.
Woe to those to die in mortal sin.
Blessed are those whom death will find
in Your most holy will,
for the second death shall do them no harm.
We are told that St Francis could embrace Sister Death so readily because he was already assured by the Lord of his salvation. This was the message Francis received when moved to self-pity one day: “Then brother, be glad and rejoice in your illnesses and troubles, because as of now, you are as secure as if you were already in my kingdom.”
It is really easy for those of us who are healthy to talk about sickness and suffering, and have lofty spiritual ideas about it. But I think we need to already begin to confront our own mortality and creatureliness. Sickness and death are part of human living, and it is pertinent to begin confronting these conditions when our health is still holding up and our faith is still unshaken. In fact, it would be wise for us to keep deepening and strengthening our faith in the Lord and in his providence, so that when anything untoward besets us, we have a firm foundation that will not crumble.
I find it beautiful that All Souls Day follows All Saints Day, where our celebration of the latter gives hope to the celebration of the former. Hope that carries us on our journey of faith whilst on earth; hope that breathes light and refreshment in our darkness and tiredness; hope that the ultimate victory is God’s and we just need to claim and participate in this gift.
Brother Derrick Yap OFM
St Clare and the Path of Purification
In particular, I notice that Clare lives and suggests discernment as a path of purification: purification of the gaze, of the heart, and of the will.
Purification of the gaze
The starting point is the reality in which we find ourselves; the reality that “we are”, that each of us “is” by nature and by grace. Preconceptions and prejudices can distort our reading of what is going on within us, in our community, in the Church, or in society. Is this not a factor in many misunderstandings, misconceptions and conflicts?
Purify the gaze to see how God sees us, without distorting filters. Clare reminds us that by being like Jesus, making his gaze our own, we can see reality in truth, beyond the changes produced by sin: “He is the radiance of eternal glory, is the brightness of eternal light and the mirror without blemish. Gaze upon that mirror each day, O Queen and Spouse of Jesus Christ, and continually study your face in it,” (4LAg14-15); for surely “in your light we see light” (Ps36:10).
Purification of the heart
If a pure gaze reads reality in the truth of God, it is the heart that judges it, evaluates it, and interprets it. Discernment as judgment is the next step in which reality is confronted with the values that support and guide our journey of life.
Conversion, like breathing, is the essential measure for Christians to continue living. Through experience, Clare knows how easily the heart hardens, gets distracted, gets confused; that is why she rejoices in seeing Agnes of Prague:
“You have brought to ruin the subtleties of our crafty enemy, the pride that destroys human nature and the vanity that infatuates human hearts.”
Pride and vanity prevent a correct judgment of reality because they close one in on oneself, rather than opening to God or to others. Genuine discernment requires a refining of the taste for the things of God, being able to recognise the scent and taste of the Gospel in the events of life and in the people we meet.
Purification of the will
The process of discernment is directed towards feeling challenged by the word of God in order to live in obedience to Him. It is aimed at dwelling within history in an evangelical way, following the footsteps of Jesus so that the kingdom of God may grow in the world.
It is good to choose whatever keeps us united to the Lord, and to reject whatever separates us from Him. Clare is able to turn down the offer of Pope Gregory IX – to be released from the bond of highest poverty and to accept the possessions that he offered – and declare with simplicity and truth: “Holy Father, I never wish to be freed from following Christ” (LegsC14). And she exhorts Agnes of Prague, in a similar situation, to embrace the poor Crucified One (Cf.2LAg17-18).