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.
I have been a trained archer for about five years. Over the years, I have grown in confidence, not only in the techniques of shooting, but also in taking the fundamental movements of every archer: taking one’s stance at the shooting line, drawing the bow, focusing on the target, and releasing the arrow.
Clare of Assisi was no archer. Unlike Princess Merida in the Disney movie Brave, she never held a bow or shot an arrow. Yet, unexpectedly, Clare has become an archer for me. Through her spirituality, she has woven together my practice of archery and my Franciscan spirituality. Now this sport has become prayer moments, engaging my entire being in an encounter with God. Isn’t this what Franciscan Prayer is – an echoing of Francis’ “My God and my All”?
The heart of Clare’s spirituality is her Mirror Spirituality, formed through her daily contemplation before the Crucifix of San Damiano. Gazing upon the Crucified Christ, she examined her disposition, fixed her eyes on him, and surrendered herself more deeply into the mystery of God. She emerged challenged to move from good to better. Clare described this interior journey in her Second Letter to Agnes of Prague: “Look upon Him, consider Him, contemplate Him, as you desire to imitate Him”.
I cannot help but see these four movements in the rhythm of archery. LOOK: my position and posture at the shooting line, nocking my arrow, and fixing my eyes on the target. CONSIDER: I raise my bow, consider the distance, my grip, my breathing, and my anchor point. CONTEMPLATE: I become fully present in my breathing and focus on the target. IMITATE: I trust my intuition and release the arrow with a follow through, and finally I take stock of the outcome with humility, always seeking to be better.
This unexpected meeting with Clare has transformed every archery practice into prayer. LOOK: Lord, let my stance before you be true and steadfast. CONSIDER: Bridge the distance between me and you, Lord, with this arrow. CONTEMPLATE: Let me find my mark in you, Lord, even if it is not in the centre. IMITATE: Wherever I land in you, Lord, be ever a message of strength and joy to me. Amen.
At Pentecost, we are invited to reflect on what Francis calls the “holy operation” of the Spirit within our lives (Later Rule X, 8). The Holy Spirit is the key that opens the meaning of every virtue, every passage of Scripture, and every human encounter.
Francis believed that because God is Spirit, He remains fundamentally invisible to the “eyes of the flesh”. To recognise the presence of Christ – particularly in the Eucharist – one must possess “spiritual eyes”. Without this internal illumination, we see only bread and wine, or merely the flaws of our neighbour.
For Francis, the “vivifying Spirit” is what enables us to know, believe, and truly “see” the Lord acting in our lives. It is an invitation to a faith grounded in a deep, interior awareness of God working beneath the surface of ordinary life.
Perhaps the most mature aspect of Franciscan spirituality is the distinction between the “Spirit of the Lord” and the “spirit of the flesh”. For Francis, “the flesh” refers not only to bodily desires but also to the ego – the “private will” that seeks to own its virtues and claim credit for goodness. True poverty of spirit, he taught, is found in those who do not “appropriate” their own will (Admonitions 2). In contrast, the Spirit of the Lord leads the believer toward a “pure and simple peace” and a humility that does not seek recognition. In this light, our mission is not something we accomplish for God, but something we allow God’s “holy operation” to accomplish through us.
Francis warned against a purely intellectual or “scientific” approach to faith, saying that “the letter kills, but the spirit gives life” (2 Cor 3:6, Admonitions 7). True wisdom, for him, is the Son of God living within the believer, and the Spirit is the true interpreter of the Divine Word. It is only through “putting into practice” what we hear that we can move from “knowing words” to “becoming the Word”.
Finally, the Spirit unifies the diverse gifts within the body of Christ. While there are many graces and ministries, there is only “one and the same Spirit” who works everything in everyone (1 Cor 12:4-6). In his later years, during a time of great trial, Francis received a revelation that the Spirit was the true founder and “governor” of his Order. This was his ultimate act of surrender.
As we celebrate the descent of the Holy Spirit, we are called to “desire above all things” to have this Spirit of the Lord working within us. Francis’ legacy invites us to set aside the desires of the flesh, open our “spiritual eyes” and let the breath of God renew us. Only then can we share the mission of repairing our broken world.
From the Ordinary Jubilee of 2025, we have entered a Year of St Francis celebrated from 10 January 2026 to 10 January 2027. In this extraordinary jubilee, which commemorates the eighth centenary of the passage of St Francis of Assisi, the Christian faithful are invited to follow the example of the Saint of Assisi, becoming models of holiness of life and constant witnesses of peace.
As Pope Leo XIV said in his letter to the Ministers General of the Franciscan Family on the opening of the centenary, “In this age, marked by so many seemingly interminable wars, by internal and social divisions that create mistrust and fear, he continues to speak. Not because he offers technical solutions, but because his life points to the authentic source of peace.”
The Holy Father concluded his letter thus, “Dear brothers and sisters, may the example and spiritual legacy of this Saint, strong in faith, steadfast in hope and ardent in active charity towards his neighbour, inspire in everyone the importance of trusting in the Lord, of living a life faithful to the Gospel, and of accepting and illuminating every circumstance and action of life with faith and prayer.”
So how may we follow the example of St Francis? We offer here some suggestions for action and reflection from “Francis of Assisi: A Seed for Eternal Life“, a letter from the Franciscan Family issued in Assisi on 10 January 2026 on the occasion of the centenary.
Action
Perform an act of mercy toward someone on the margins of society.
Spend 10 minutes in silence in front of a crucifix.
Participate in the Eucharist with renewed attention.
Give thanks for the Church, even with its shortcomings.
Apologise to someone instead of justifying yourself.
Bring peace to a conflict within family or at work.
Reflection
I try to recognise the “lepers” of my time; who are the excluded people I encounter?
Where do I see today the “opened eyes” of the Crucifix looking at me?
How do I experience my belonging to the Church with its poverty and riches?
Where do I “sow my seed” of the Gospel? Where are my places of witness?
Do my relationships seem “circular” or “pyramidal”? Where do I recognise that I am exercising power rather than service?
How do I effectively bring peace to the places where I live?
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.
