He was 5-foot-1, small of stature, a party animal … and his Latin was terrible.
So why would Jesus choose him?
Why would Jesus say to him from the cross of a rundown chapel, “Francesco, va’ e ripara la mia casa che, come vedi, è tutta in rovina!”
What was He thinking?
We do know that when Jesus said three times, “Francis, go and repair my house which, as you see, is falling into ruin!” a young and impetuous Francis of Assisi responded without hesitation, deliberation or negotiation, and according to some accounts said, “Yes, Lord, willingly!”
Considering our contemporary corporate sensibilities, Jesus should have put more thought into that decision. Why not a bureaucrat? Why not an academic? Why not a medieval CEO? Why not a political leader? Why not a celebrity? Fortunately, Jesus knew darn well what he was doing.
There was no need for a search firm, no need for a LinkedIn profile, no need for interminable job interviews because, as it says in 1 Samuel 16:7—when the prophet was looking at the sons of Jesse for the new king and chose the least likely, David: “The Lord said to Samuel, ‘Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him, for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.’”
God looks to the heart, not to the incidentals, because God works with imperfection and can make it perfect. All that is required is a simple “Yes, Lord,” which was Francis’ answer.
As the saint, himself, said, “What a man is in God’s eyes that he is … and no more. Then, let us be what God intended us to be … and move forward rebuilding the Church.
The celebrated author Walker Percy, a convert to Catholicism, once wrote, only somewhat facetiously, that to renew the Church, “All it takes is a couple of high livers like Francis of Assisi, a real dude, and Clare, a rich teenage groupie, to turn it around, to actually put into practice the living truth of the Church’s teachings, of the Gospel.”
This St. Francis was not the St. Francis of the bird feeders; this St. Francis preached the Gospel in season and out of season, with words and actions.
When we think of him, we think of the stigmata, his simplicity, his love of nature and animals, his love of the poor, his pursuit of peace. He was a rich man who renounced wealth and privilege to live the Gospel radically.
He was known as “Il Poverello,” which means “the Poor Little Man,” but he had another self-bestowed nickname, “Joculator Dei,” which means God’s jester or minstrel.
Unlike many other saints, he believed that a sullen countenance, and a gloomy, austere attitude have no place for a follower of the Gospel, despite the suffering he endured. Joy is contagious, and during this time of renewal, joy should be our calling card because a heart open to the Holy Spirit will overflow with joy and attract others.
So, young Catholics, take some advice from an old man: Turn off your cell phones, cut down on your social media, party less and pray more, put the Gospel ahead of your careers and set forth on this great adventure of renewal with the Holy Spirit as your guide.
The challenge for all of us— young, middle-aged and old-timers— is to figure out exactly how Jesus is asking us to rebuild the Church. This much you can be sure of: He is definitely asking something of you although you may not be sure what it is. Nevertheless, don’t doubt for a moment that you were born in this particular place and time for a particular purpose.
Go before the Blessed Sacrament. Sit and listen, and you’ll get your directions sooner rather than later because God has already looked to your heart. Then, respond, “Yes, Lord, willingly” just as Francis did.
Christ is calling all of us—the short and the tall, those who are Latin scholars and those who aren’t, the partiers and contemplatives. You see, grace compensates for our deficiencies and even for our presumed adequacies. So go forth joyfully in the spirit of St. Francis … and get to work.
(Joe Pisani can be reached at [email protected])
