Much like St. Ignatius of Loyola, St. Francis of Assisi lived a life of worldliness and frivolity before his conversion. Although he was not seriously wounded in battle as was Ignatius, Francis became critically ill following his release as a prisoner of war, and both men, during their recuperation, became profoundly aware of the wanton, meaningless lifestyles which they had been living before the time of their affliction.
From the moment of their awareness, both men radically changed their ways. In Francis’ case, he decisively cut ties with his family and adopted a new course of life, one of extreme penance and poverty. So radical was Francis’ conversion that friends and family were convinced that he had gone mad.
Many of us know the rest of his story: how he traveled through the countryside in tattered clothes preaching repentance (even preaching to the animals), how he heard the call from Jesus to “rebuild His church,” and how his radical, joyful way of life attracted so many followers that the order he established—the Order of Friars Minor and the Poor Clares—grew by leaps and bounds.
Two years before his death, Francis became the first known saint to receive the stigmata, and just two years after his death, the Church proclaimed him a saint. Few saints have matched the transformative holiness which was that of St. Francis of Assisi.
Why Did Francis Cut Ties?
Here’s the thing: for a man who once said, “We ought to be servants who are submissive to every human being for God’s sake,” how are we to understand Francis’ decision to cut off all ties with his family—his flesh and blood—in order to pursue his radical new way of life? Of course, we understand that following God’s will supersedes our family’s will, especially when it comes to our vocation. But to “cut ties” altogether seems so…uncharitable. Even selfish. Did Francis leave a trail of devastation in his wake? Did he leave his poor parents to suffer sadness and loneliness for the rest of their lives just so he could embrace his “joyful, radical” way of life—one that tended charitably to the needs of everyone he encountered, but not to the needs of his own family?
We don’t know exactly the details of Francis’ cutting ties with his family. But we can imagine that with Francis’ heart newly set on fire in profound love of Christ, he would have now viewed his circumstances from the perspective of eternity, and he would have wanted nothing more than for his family to see from this perspective too. His decision to cut ties, while definitive, would have been neither frivolous nor taken lightly.
Francis did not cut ties with his family because they were cruel, belittling, or because they mocked him—although all of this was indeed true. He did not leave them because they “bothered” him, or because they were too opinionated at holiday gatherings, or because they were otherwise insufferable to be around. In fact, if his temptation to leave would have been over any of these things, in his newfound holiness, Francis would have certainly embraced it all with open arms, recognizing the opportunity to accept his humiliations and sufferings in imitation of Our Lord.
No, there would have been only one reason that Francis would have “shaken the dust” from his feet and moved onto other towns: his family rejected the Good News that Francis had to share. And in rejecting him, they had rejected Jesus Christ Himself.
Now let’s understand: the knowledge of this rejection must have been a terrible weight for Francis. He did not wash his hands of them callously and without care; in fact, it surely must have been a sorrow which he carried in his heart throughout his whole life. This holy man of God who had the gift to capture the attention of even the animals, had been utterly powerless when it came to his own family. For them, the words he’d preached were futile. They preferred the entertainments and frivolity which they had become accustomed to over a life of pure and true joy. They rejected the peace which Francis would have desperately tried to offer them.
Accompaniment through Prayer & Sacrifice
So, Francis left. But then what would Francis have done? Francis would have prayed. And what would have been the fruit of his prayer?
“Start by doing what is necessary; then do what is possible; and suddenly you are doing the impossible.” – St. Francis of Assisi
When it came to his family, Francis started by doing what was necessary: shaking the dust from his feet. But then he would have pondered: “I can’t get through to them by preaching; but what is possible for me to do?” It is here that Jesus would have made the answer so clear that the heavy burden of knowing his family’s rejection would have immediately lifted from Francis’ heart. Francis, we imagine, would now offer up penances and sacrifices on their behalf.
Presumably, it would have been this new-found revelation in the power of penance that would have generated in Francis an all-encompassing conviction to embrace every act of mortification he could think of! To those who would listen, he preached. For those who would not, Francis would have offered penance and sacrifice that was both extreme and dramatic—to the point of receiving the wounds of Christ Himself.
It was by way of both his preaching as well as his prayer and penance that St. Francis of Assisi succeeded in winning countless souls over to Christ. Perhaps, in the end, he may even have won over the family with whom he had cut ties long before.
“The Spirit of the Lord will rest on all who live in this way and persevere in it to the end. He will permanently dwell in them.” – St. Francis of Assisi
Author’s Note: Excerpt from: The Safe Haven: Scriptural Reflections for the Heart and Home (Ordinary Time Weeks 22-28). To purchase, visit Amazon or The Catholic Company, where all other volumes currently in print are also available.
Image from Wikimedia Commons
