(Editor’s note: This is the third in a series of commentaries by Barry Howard reflecting on his experiences in Italy. The first is available here and the second is available here.)
By Barry Howard
As our Eurostar train from Rome approached the Santa Maria degli Angeli station I could see the old town of Assisi sitting on the slope of an Umbrian butte with prominent castles and cathedrals, visible from miles away. Along the way to our hotel, we saw so many friars and nuns walking that few seemed to notice their presence. There was definitely a spiritual aura here, affirmed by a sense of serenity and safety not present in the larger cities we visited on this trip to Europe.
St. Francis was certainly the most well known among the saints honored here. My introduction to him came in college, when I learned the song, “Lord, Make Me an Instrument of Thy Peace” — a setting of St. Francis’ famous prayer.
Since that time I have read much about his life and ministry and I have quoted him in sermons and columns. Little did I know that this day would come when I would have the privilege of visiting his hometown.
For some Catholics, making the journey to Assisi is as important, if not more so, than traveling to Rome. The town is also a popular destination for seekers and mystics. In other words, some travel to Assisi to reinforce their spiritual beliefs while others travel here to discover a more spiritual meaning to existence.
While in Assisi, my wife and I walked almost every street, visited every church, and stopped at more than one pizzeria. We joined the crowds visiting the Cathedral of San Rufino where St. Frances was baptized; the basilica in Santa Maria delgi Angeli, where he died; and the Basilica of St. Francis, where he was buried. Now I can better see how his life still inspires spiritual pilgrims today.
Volumes have been written about that life, but a few of St. Francis’ ministry emphases are especially relevant for Baptists in the 21st century.
One was simplicity of lifestyle. In 1206, the young Giovanni Francesco di Bernardone had a vision of Jesus Christ that transformed his life. A couple of years later he heard a sermon on Matthew 10:9-10, in which Christ tells his followers they should go forth and proclaim the kingdom of heaven, and “do not take along any gold or silver or copper in your belts. Take no bag for the journey, or extra tunic, or sandals, or a staff, for the worker is worth his keep.”
Although he was the son of a wealthy merchant, young Francesco (Anglicized to “Francis”) took this text literally, and it inspired him to devote himself to a life of poverty and to begin preaching a message of repentance and hope. The message of St. Francis captured the hearts of young men from all over Italy who in turn wandered about preaching the gospel to rich and poor alike. His message of non-materialism emphasized a love for God, a love of nature, and equality of humankind.
Another was egalitarianism. Desiring to share the Good News with everyone, St. Francis ventured outside the walls of the church and took his message to the streets, preaching in the common language of the people, not in the traditional Latin of the church. While some protested this new practice, eventually the pope gave his blessing in 1223, and the Franciscan Order was included in the larger Catholic community.
In addition to the young men who sensed a calling to joyfully proclaim the gospel, there was also Clare, who at age 18 was captivated by the message of St. Francis. On the evening of Palm Sunday in 1212, she departed her father’s mansion without his permission, and headed to the valley below. Friars escorted her to St. Francis, who cut her hair, gave her a simple brown tunic and commissioned her to a life of poverty. She spent the next 40 years in the convent of San Damiano and was gradually joined by other women who heard the call to serve God. They became known as the Order of the Poor Clares.
One legendary story is told of Clare attempting to visit St. Francis when he was on his death bed. Since women were usually not permitted, when told by a friar that Clare had arrived to visit, St. Francis is said to have responded, “Then welcome Brother Clare.”
Much about St. Francis’ approach to ministry seems extraordinarily relevant for our time. To counter the materialistic impulses of our day, perhaps we need to re-emphasize the value of service, the beauty in nature and the worth of each human being. Instead of waiting on people to come to church, perhaps we should also take the message to the streets, preaching through lifestyles and language a message of hope that all can understand. And perhaps we must find ways to affirm both the men and women that God calls to serve, recognizing that the spiritual passion and giftedness God places within a man or a woman supersedes the rules or traditions of the church or the culture.
In some ways, following the path of St. Francis in our time could be considered as radical as it was almost 800 years ago. But it may be a path worth following to revitalize the church and advance the Good News.