Key Takeaways
1. The Franciscan Path: A Passionate Call to Radical Discipleship
Francis offers a spirituality of delight, and of a love that held onto that delight even in the midst of great suffering.
Finding a home. The author's journey to Franciscan spirituality began after years of spiritual struggle and a desire for deeper community. Dissatisfied with conventional church experiences, she explored various monastic traditions, finding Benedictines too moderate and Trappists too rigid. The Carmelites offered a glimpse of openness, but it was Francis's "out there" approach that resonated most deeply.
Francis's unique style. Francis of Assisi was neither balanced nor moderate; his relationship with God was intensely passionate, embracing both ecstasy and suffering. This "unbalanced" devotion, coupled with a dual emphasis on contemplation and social justice, drew the author to his path. Francis's life exemplified a profound love for God that translated into radical service to the poor and outcast.
A community of passion. Joining the Third Order of the Society of St. Francis provided the author with a community where her own "fanatic streak" was understood and embraced. This worldwide Anglican order allows individuals to live a Franciscan life "in the world," guided by Francis's example and a flexible Rule, fostering a deep commitment to following Jesus Christ.
2. Holy Eucharist: The Heart of Intimate Union with God
It's no coincidence that the word “passion” connotes both love and suffering; indeed, these aren't so much two distinct meanings as two faces of the same experience.
God's passionate gift. The Eucharist is presented as Jesus' ultimate gift, given in anguish, ensuring his presence until the end of time. This act embodies God's passionate love for humanity, a love that willingly embraced suffering to offer perfect union and joy. Francis's devotion to the Eucharist was so profound that he urged frequent participation, seeing it as a direct encounter with Christ's living body and blood.
Intimacy and transformation. For Francis, the Eucharist was a tangible way to see and touch Christ, a profound union of body and spirit. The author draws an analogy between the Eucharist and sexual intimacy in a committed relationship, where physical encounter brings souls into contact and defines the entire relationship. Receiving communion frequently means becoming "Eucharistic people," known as Christ's intimates, which colors every aspect of life.
A sacred priority. The Franciscan Rule places the Eucharist at the "heart" of prayer, calling for frequent participation. The author, like Francis, guards her mid-week Mass attendance jealously, recognizing it as a sacred, non-negotiable time. This consistent engagement with the sacrament nourishes the soul, affirming Jesus' words: "By eating my flesh and drinking my blood you enter into me and I into you."
3. Prayer: Cultivating Constant Awareness and Contemplative Action
Francis didn't chronicle his prayer life in the way of Teresa of Avila or Mechtilde of Magdeburg, so we have little direct knowledge of what passed between him and God when he prayed.
Immersed in God's presence. Francis was known for his ceaseless prayer, striving to keep his spirit constantly aware of God's presence. His approach was "contemplative action," where deep prayer fueled active service, enabling him to see Christ in everyone, even lepers. The Daily Office, a structured schedule of ancient prayers, forms the backbone of Tertiary prayer, providing a framework for confession, petition, praise, and thanksgiving.
Prayer's rhythms and challenges. The author acknowledges the difficulty and monotony of daily set prayers, especially during periods of spiritual aridity. However, she emphasizes that consistency with disciplines like the Daily Office eventually yields rewards, acting as a bridge during times when God feels distant. Francis's humility allowed him to find communion with God even in mundane tasks, like "praying with a hoe."
Beyond words and distractions. Effective prayer requires dedicated time, followed by silence to listen to God. To combat mental restlessness, various techniques like the rosary, sacred words, or repetitive motions can anchor the mind. Lectio divina (sacred reading) or music can serve as "ways in" to God's presence. Ultimately, prayer is a surrender, where human effort ceases, and God's direct action takes over, leading to a profound union described as "ocean pouring into ocean."
4. Embracing Brokenness: Penitence and Humility as Pathways to Grace
Jesus said (John 6:53–58) that it was by eating his flesh and drinking his blood that we would have life within us—the flesh broken open, the blood spilling from his wounds are the source of the life that sustains us.
Wounds as entry ports. The author reflects on the spiritual principle that life often emerges from brokenness, comparing it to tilling soil for new growth. Francis, who bore the stigmata, understood suffering as a profound identification with Christ's Passion. The author suggests that our own wounds—from sin or life's hardships—can become "entry ports" for Christ's life, flowing from his open wounds to ours.
Reconciliation and self-examination. Penitence, central to the Franciscan way, involves daily self-examination and regular use of the Sacrament of Reconciliation. This practice is not self-flagellation but a means of lifting the burden of sin, restoring peace and hope. Confessing sins to a priest, though daunting for many, offers cleansing and a crucial external perspective on one's faults, preventing self-condemnation or denial.
Taming the inner wolf. Francis's encounter with the wolf of Gubbio symbolizes confronting and taming one's inner demons rather than destroying them. This Franciscan approach to penitence emphasizes mercy and reconciliation, even for self-inflicted wounds. Acknowledging our brokenness and need for God, rather than clinging to illusions of self-sufficiency, allows our defenses to crumble, opening us to God's transformative grace.
5. Simplicity and Self-Denial: Living Without Anesthesia for Deeper Connection
Kathleen Norris has said that the saints are those who have been willing to go through life without anesthesia.
Resisting numbing distractions. Humans constantly seek "anesthesia" to dull pain, whether through drugs, work, entertainment, or status. Francis, who spent Lent on an uninhabited island with minimal food, exemplified living without such numbing. The author challenges the modern tendency to fill every moment with distractions, arguing that this prevents us from confronting important truths about life, mortality, and God's voice.
Denying the ego's demands. Self-denial extends beyond material deprivation to include resisting the ego's demands for status, recognition, and control. Francis, by naming his followers "Friars Minor" and emphasizing service over titles, rejected the pursuit of worldly prestige. The author reflects on denying herself the "anesthetic" of academic credentials or manipulative speech, forcing her to engage with others from a place of greater equality and honesty.
Radical openness to reality. Francis's commitment to reconciliation, even with robbers or those who wronged him, meant denying himself the "luxury of enmity" and dehumanizing others. This radical openness to seeing Christ in the "Other" challenges comfortable assumptions about global inequality and suffering. Simplicity, for the author, means continually examining her life for areas where she can give more, not just financially, but by being fully present and attentive to God's will and the needs of the world.
6. Work and Study: Discerning God's Call in Service and Understanding
Francis advised his followers to “preach the gospel at all times; if necessary, use words.”
Service through action and presence. Francis's approach to evangelism emphasized living the Gospel through actions, like helping a beggar or comforting a child, rather than just words. This "Franciscan approach" means reflecting Christ's love in daily life. The author, initially seeking a traditional "ministry," realized her teaching and writing, which expose students to global suffering and explore Franciscan spirituality, could also be forms of service.
Study for love and understanding. While Francis was suspicious of academic learning, the Third Order Rule requires both devotional Scripture study and secular learning. Study, when undertaken in a spirit of love, helps us understand and respect our neighbors, bridging cultural divides and challenging assumptions about social problems. It also deepens our love for God by engaging with His Word and creation.
Learning from all creation. Francis learned profound spiritual lessons from nature, seeing God's wisdom in a lark's humility. The author shares how her dogs, Dylan and Abby, taught her about unconditional love and "peaceful worthwhileness." Serious study, paradoxically, can also lead to humility by revealing the limits of human knowledge, fostering an "apophatic" sense of God's unknowable mystery.
7. Retreat and Obedience: Finding Freedom and Wholeness in Structured Surrender
Francis was absolutely committed to this practice; he fiercely guarded his time alone with God, and went to extreme lengths to ensure that he could pass that time uninterrupted.
The necessity of withdrawal. Retreats are essential for spiritual growth, offering opportunities to rest and reconnect with God. Francis established hermitages to ensure solitude, fiercely protecting his time alone with God. The author, initially struggling to schedule formal retreats, discovered that "retreats can come to you in disguise," like caring for a dying loved one, transforming ordinary tasks into sacred time.
Yihud and Sabbath. The image of yihud, a Jewish wedding tradition where the couple takes private time to assimilate their union, illustrates the purpose of retreat: creating space for God to communicate the significance of life's moments. The Christian Sabbath, a weekly retreat, offers a liberating pause from productivity, setting limits on worldly demands and affirming God's claim on our time.
Freedom through submission. Taking a vow of obedience, countercultural in modern America, is understood not as a loss of freedom but as a path to it. It means submitting to legitimate authority, acknowledging that others have a right to speak into one's life, and breaking the ego's mastery. For Tertiaries, obedience involves keeping the Rule, regular spiritual direction, participating in community prayer, and supporting the Order, all within a framework of "challenging loyalty" to truth.
8. Chastity: Seeing Others as God's Own, Beyond Self-Interest
Chastity is an attitude that we can bring to all human relationships, at all levels, and its essence is a recognition that other people exist for God and not for me.
Beyond sexual restraint. Chastity, for Franciscans, extends far beyond sexual behavior to encompass an attitude towards all relationships. It means recognizing that others exist for God's purposes, not as means for one's own self-fulfillment or gratification. Francis, though celibate, was realistic about human nature and protected himself and his friars from sexual temptation, but his deeper chastity was in seeing Christ in every person.
Non-exploitative relationships. The author reflects on practicing chastity by resisting the temptation to use others for ego boosts, career advancement, or even to feel like a "good Christian." This includes avoiding manipulative communication, not exploiting subordinates, and challenging societal systems that benefit from the underpaid labor of vulnerable populations. Such exploitation, she argues, is a sin against chastity on a global level.
Hospitality and dignity. Celibate religious often speak of chastity in terms of radical hospitality, being open and available to all. While challenging, this ideal calls all Christians to welcome others, care for their needs, and uphold their dignity, especially across social divides. Giving alms, for example, must be done in a way that honors the recipient, avoiding actions that strip dignity or feed the benefactor's ego.
9. Joy: The Unshakeable Conviction Amidst Suffering and Paradox
What Jesus knew, and what both Paul and Francis learned from him, is that joy is another of those paradoxes of the spiritual life, entirely compatible with danger, failure and sorrow.
Joy in the "upside-down kingdom." Francis's "perfect joy" story, where he finds joy in being rejected and beaten, illustrates the Christian distinction between joy and happiness. Happiness is fleeting and dependent on external circumstances, but joy is a divine gift, a settled conviction compatible with suffering. Jesus promised his disciples joy and peace even before his crucifixion, revealing an "upside-down kingdom" where triumph emerges from apparent defeat.
Compassion and ultimate healing. The author grapples with finding joy amidst witnessing horrific atrocities, from slave castles to concentration camps. She concludes that genuine joy is not escapism but arises from "union with God in Christ," entering into the suffering of others through compassio. This means acknowledging pain while holding an unshakeable conviction in God's ultimate justice and complete healing for all wounds.
A spiritual home. Joy, like peace, "surpasses all understanding" because it is grounded in the knowledge that Christ has conquered the world and redeemed humanity. This conviction allows for rejoicing even in weakness and persecution. For the author, this understanding of joy, though hard-won, provides a profound sense of spiritual home, a "little portion" where, despite life's costs, all will ultimately be well.
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