St. Francis Assisi, whose feast day is celebrated this Monday, is perhaps one of the best known and most beloved Catholic saints. He’s one of my favorites, and not just because October 4th is my birthday.
Growing up in a Catholic home, I was regularly reminded of my connection to Francis. As I came to know him better, he became my patron saint. My relationship with Francis started with colorful children’s books featuring him surrounded by animals, a worn statue of him in my room, and stories of “Brother Sun and Sister Moon.”
Of all the saints I met in a decade of parochial school, Francis of Assisi seemed by far, the coolest. As a young man, Francis was considered fun and popular; he was the life of the party with an eye for great adventure. When the time came, he donned a knight’s armor and fought in a battle, honorably defending his hometown. Very cool.
Then, like so many of us, his plans took a turn. A battle injury, imprisonment, and illness led to Francis’ transformation. There are many stories of the beloved saint - the voice telling him to “rebuild my church,” the stigmata he experienced at the end of his life, and his connections to animals.
For me, Francis’ convalescence is the greatest of his stories. For it was there, deep in the serene fields of Assisi, where he truly encountered God, where he learned of beauty found in simple things. This is where Francis keenly observed God’s creation and learned its critical lessons of peace and humility.
I take Francis with me on my early morning hikes through the Wissahickon Valley in Philadelphia’s Fairmount Park. When the divisions in my community overwhelm me or the arguments in my household stress me, I voyage deep into this quiet, timeless, and ever-changing forest. On every trip, the moment I behold the rocky, wooded path, I feel God’s peace envelop me. Later, when I exit the forest’s edge, I may not hear the voice as Francis did, but I do feel a powerful invitation to take the forest’s peace into my day.
Being a peacemaker is no easy feat and acting in a peaceful, loving manner can be hard for all of us. For me, I struggle with being a peacemaker when dealing with my teenage sons, colleagues with different agendas, and neighbors who easily offend. Those are the times when I think of the forest and hear Francis’ prayer, recalling the tune, “Make Me A Channel of Your Peace.”
The challenge that Francis presents us in that popular prayer is as relevant today as when he rebuilt the church San Damiano. His words remind us that in the simple ways we bring God’s peace to our world, we, too are rebuilding His Church.
In de Sales,
Communications Consultant
