King of Feasts

IF I WERE an extraordinary person gifted with supernatural powers, instead of being an ordinary friar working as editor of this magazine I would go out of my way to bring back to life a very special person: Saint Francis of Assisi.

Why him? Because I believe that this historical personality contains within himself many aspects of contemporary humanity and society.

This can be seen, for instance, in the experiences of his youth: he was a seducer who led a disorderly life, spending much of his time in the company of well-to-do friends who, like him, squandered their wealth on fashionable items and crass enjoyments.  

His first biographer, Thomas of Celano, writes of this first phase of the future saint’s life in very severe terms: “He outdid all his contemporaries in vanities… and was more abundantly zealous for all kinds of foolishness. He was the admiration of all, and strove to outdo the rest in pomp of vainglory, in jokes, in strange doings, in idle and useless talk, in songs, in soft and flowing garments…” We are also informed that his revelling friends had proclaimed him: The King of Feasts.

Do not consider me sacrilegious or tasteless if I see a parallel between the young Francis of Assisi and many of our youth today who hop from a happy hour to a disco, and then return home reeling under the effects of alcohol and loud music, if not that of hard drugs.

Even Francis’ father, Pietro of Bernardone, is strongly reminiscent of so many modern fathers: eternally occupied in accumulating wealth, money, power and social standing through that clever sort of pragmatism so prevalent today. The same can be said of Pica, Francis’ mother. Her figure really is strikingly similar to many mothers today: doting after their children, and anxiously desirous of keeping them out of harm’s way.

Then there is that unexpected and sensational conversion that shocked Assisi. If it were to happen to one of our youth today, it would fill the front pages of the world’s major newspapers and magazines, and be aired in prime time for hours on end by all the major television networks. Can you imagine the son of some major politician or Hollywood star suddenly taking off all his clothes in Madison Square Park, New York? And then renouncing all his possessions and family ties with the words, “Hitherto I have called you my father on earth, henceforth I desire to say only ‘Our Father who art in heaven’”?

This extraordinary conversion, with its genuine and radical return to the Gospel, is as relevant today as ever in these spiritually perilous times when many of our young people are wandering in search of a moral compass that can fill the void in their hearts.

Francis’ preference for threadbare clothing, worn out sandals and the dilapidated hovel of Rivotorto to focus only on his love for Jesus and all creatures, are in sharp contrast to our affluent, yet spiritually void, western lifestyle and its addiction to pleasures, comforts, success and money, and challenges it outright.

Today, more than ever, we sense the importance and relevance of this extraordinary saint who remains at the forefront of the spiritual arena, for Francis’ alternative lifestyle is a faithful and living mirror of the Gospel message.

In a recent speech on Saint Francis, Pope Benedict said, “Francis was a great saint and a joyful man. His simplicity, his humility, his faith, his love for Christ, his goodness towards every man and every woman, brought him gladness in every circumstance. Indeed, there subsists an intimate and indissoluble relationship between holiness and joy. A French writer once wrote that there is only one sorrow in the world: not to be saints, that is, not to be near God. Looking at the testimony of Saint Francis, we understand that this is the secret of true happiness: to become saints, close to God!”

The message that Francis continues to give us today has a lot to do with that happiness we are all craving for. We cannot find it in riches, nor in pleasures, power, fame or glory, but only in knowing and feeling ourselves as brothers and sisters of Jesus, in forgetting about ourselves, and in turning our eyes to God, to our needy brothers and sisters, and to all creatures who, in His infinite goodness, the Father created so that our joy could be complete.

Unfortunately, dear readers, neither you nor I can bring Francis back to life. What we can do, however, is nurture and grow the seed that the poor man of Assisi has certainly planted in our hearts as proved by our strong devotion and love for one of his greatest followers, Saint Anthony of Padua.