Saint Francis and the Call to Radical Love: A Reflection for a Distracted Age
Written by Megan Keyser
He is one of the most readily recognizable saints of all time: his likeness graces many a garden, he is beloved for his appreciation of the natural beauties and the majesty of God’s animal kingdom, and his spirit of gentleness is universally lauded by both secular and religious camps. Yet, for all his cultural notoriety and esteem, how many of us truly know the person of Saint Francis of Assisi?
Employing her exceptional gift of reflective prose and penetrating insights into human nature, famed novelist Elizabeth Goudge‘s biographical work My God and My All: The Life of Saint Francis of Assisi seeks – in a most beautiful and compelling fashion – to go beyond the conventional and superficial understanding of Francis and illuminate the depths of his real sanctity and union with Christ. Perhaps even more importantly, Goudge does not merely detail the incredible events of Saint Francis’ extraordinary life but further invites us to pursue our own unique destiny of radical holiness, by mirroring his sacrificial love and total abandonment to the Cross.
But how can a medieval mystic and ascetic’s spiritual journey bear any similarities to our own paths to holiness? We live in an age of self-driving cars, burgeoning Artificial Intelligence, and seemingly limitless distractions. In such a world, how can we capture even a bit of the tranquility and focus needed to meditate on God and His Goodness? How can we discover the motivating ardor to practice self-abandonment, when we are constantly bombarded by ubiquitous – and often mindless – entertainment?
In reading the wondrous circumstances surrounding Francis’ own singular path toward God, it is hard for us, so unused to privation, suffering, or genuine poverty, to understand his abstinence, not only from luxuries, but even from common, ordinary goods. We wonder how we can relate to such a “radical” individual. I think, however, that the lesson of Saint Francis does not reside (for most of us) in mimicry of his specific astonishing deeds, but in our imitation of his heroic love – the enlarging of our narrow hearts by eroding the primacy of self.
The opening of Chapter 11 “The Poor” begins with verse from Jacopone Da Todi’s Lauda LX:
In a narrow heart God cannot bide;
Where the love is great, the heart is wide;
Poverty, great-hearted, dignified,
Entertains and welcomes deity.
Poverty has nothing in her hand,
Nothing craves, in sea, or sky, or land:
Hath the universe at her command!
Dwelling in the heart of liberty.
Page 175
What Francis discovered, and what so few of us are willing to embrace, is that, by emptying ourselves of our own petty self-interests and designs, we make our hearts open and expansive vessels for divine charity. Instead, like spiritual hoarders, we clutter our souls with all manner of extraneous fancies and aspirations, claiming our absolute dependence on such things for “survival.” We clutch at these superfluities – be they material goods or even personal ambitions – not recognizing how zeal for constant acquisition deprives us of the serenity and peace of unfettered communion with God and man. How little do we truly desire to be fashioned into “lovers of the cross” (pg. 187).
As I continued my reading of the life of Saint Francis, surrounded as I am by convenience and relative ease, I found it no wonder why many consider him inaccessible to modern men (although, as his own contemporaries and fellow Franciscans’ struggles attested, his pursuit of Christlike perfection has always been a seemingly unattainable aspiration). This man, after all, embraced lepers, cleaned their oozing sores, weathered harsh natural elements, and subsisted on scraps from other men’s tables, and here I am, frustrated when my internet connect is not up to speed or my toddler has chosen to dump a box of cereal on the living room floor. How can I possibly emulate his willingness to suffer gladly, for the sake of Love, without succumbing to a sense of despair at my own spiritual weakness and limitations?
What heartened me was discovering that Francis himself had such fears: “’Put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ.’ [Francis] had set himself, as far as a man may, to imitate Christ in all things, with arms stretched out both ways in love to God and man…In deep humility, in fear and trembling as well as joy, he put on his habit. How could he, a weak and sinful man, carry this cross? Only by living so close to Christ that they would carry it together” (pg. 52 – emphasis mine).
This is what I fail to remember: I can only do anything good, laudable, or virtuous with Christ supporting me through it all. Over and over, I find myself relying on my “own” strength, resources, or abilities – believing that I, somehow, am accomplishing anything on my own – and failing to recognize readily that even the most insignificant of actions, even the most imperceptible steps in virtue, are only made possible through Christ.
In that light, the awe-inspiring charity of Saint Francis suddenly seems attainable. Of course, that is not to dismiss the discipline of will, the intensity of prayer, or the longing for God that Saint Francis demonstrated – a loving and obedient submission that served as a conduit for grace (we do, after all, have to cooperate with God’s free offering of grace by acquiescing to His Diving Will for each of our lives) – but to rather rejoice in the fact that any man’s greatness is not his own, but Christ’s.
About Megan Keyser
Originally hailing from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, Megan is a 2006 Hillsdale College graduate with a degree in Classical Studies. These days, Megan thrives on the challenges and joys of her role as a Catholic, stay-at-home mother, who heads a chapter of the Well-Read Mom, dabbles in social commentary and other writing pursuits, and advocates for the pro-life cause. Despite the inevitable chaos of large family life, Megan is thankful for her lively brood and relishes juggling household responsibilities, babies in diapers, and, of course, a good book. She resides in Noblesville, Indiana, with her husband, Marc, an engineer in the energy industry, and their eleven children, ages 17 years to 11 months old.
About Well-Read Mom
In Well-Read Mom, women read more and read well. Our hope is to deepen the awareness of meaning hidden in each woman’s daily life. We long to elevate the cultural conversation and revitalize reading literature from books. If you would like us to help you select worthy reading material, we invite you to join and read along. We are better together! For information on how to start or join a Well-Read Mom group visit our website wellreadmom.com
