St Francis of Assisi

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace;
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is dispair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.

Grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Though not actually written by St Francis, this prayer captures the paradoxical nature of his life. In honor of his feast day, I just finished a book on St Francis by G.K. Chesterton (himself perhaps the world champion of paradox). As always with Chesterton, it is beautifully written. Every page contains at least one passage worthy of quote. For example:

"The mystic who passes through the moment when there is nothing but God does in some sense behold the beginingless beginnings in in which there was really nothing else. He not only appreciates everything but the nothing of which everything was made."

Or,

"I have said that St Francis deliberately did not see the wood for the trees. It is even more true that he deliberately did not see the mob for the men."

And I couldn't help but chuckle at this understatement:

"St. Simeon Stylites on the top of his pillar was in one sense an exceedingly public character; but there was something a little singular in his situation for all that."

Unfortunately, the book is more interpretation than biography. It assumes a greater knowledge than I have of the details of St Francis's life. Funny, he says he wrote it for the "ordinary outsider and enquirer". Apparently, such an outsider in 1923 could be expected to know vastly more about this Saint than your typical Catholic knows today. I think I'll enjoy Chesterton's analysis a lot more if I read an actual biography first.

I'll close with a poem, almost a pslam, that actually was written by the saint. Some say it's the first piece of Italian literature.

Canticle of Brother Sun

Most high, almighty, and good Lord,
Yours is the praise, the glory, honor, blessing all.
To you, Most High, alone of right they do belong,
And no mortal man is fit to mention you.

Be praised, my Lord, of all your creature world,
And first of all Sir Brother Sun,
Who brings the day, and light you give to us through him,
And beautiful is he, agleam with mighty splendor:
Of you, Most High, he gives us indication.

Be praised, my Lord, through Sisters Moon and Stars:
In the heavens you have formed them,
bright and fair and precious.

Be praised, my Lord, through Brother Wind,
Through Air, and cloudy, clear, and every kind of Weather,
By whom you give your creatures sustenance.

Be praised, my Lord, through Sister Water,
For greatly useful, lowly, precious, chaste is she.

Be praised, my Lord, through Brother Fire,
Through whom you brighten up the night,
And fair he is, and gay, and vigorous, and strong.

Be praised, O Lord, through our sister Mother Earth,
For she sustains and guides our life,
And yields us diverse fruits, with colored flowers, and grass.

Be praised, my Lord, through those who pardon give for love of you,
And bear infirmity and tribulation:
Blessed they who suffer it in peace,
For of you, Most High, they shall be crowned.

Be praised, my Lord, through our Brother Death of Body,
From whom no one among the living can escape.
Woe to those who in mortal sins will die;
Blessed those whom he will find in your most holy graces,
For the second death will do no harm to them.

Praise and bless my Lord, and thank him too,
And serve him all, in great humility.