• =?UTF-8?Q?On_the_Love_of_Solitude_and_Silence=C2=A0_=28V=29?=

    From Rich@1:229/2 to All on Monday, October 04, 2021 00:19:01
    From: richarra@gmail.com

    On the Love of Solitude and Silence  (V)

        In silence and quietness the devout soul makes progress and learns
    the hidden mysteries of the Scriptures (Ecclus.39:1-3). There she
    finds floods of tears in which she may nightly wash and be cleansed
    (Ps.6:6). For the further she withdraws from all the tumult of the
    world, the nearer she draws to her Maker. For God with His holy angels
    will draw near to him who withdraws himself from his friends and
    acquaintances. It is better to live in obscurity and to seek the
    salvation of his soul, than to neglect this even to work miracles. It
    is commendable in a Religious, therefore, to go abroad but seldom, to
    avoid being seen, and to have no desire to see men.
    --Thomas à Kempis --Imitation of Christ Bk 1, Ch 20

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    October 4th – St. Francis of Assisi

    In the case of many saints, people have disagreed whether they
    qualified for that title. St. Francis of Assisi, on the other hand,
    comes as close as possible to being everybody’s saint. Not only
    Catholics, but those of different faiths or of no formal faith have
    agreed that the “Poverello”, the “little poor man” of Assisi deserved canonization. The basic reason for this universal popularity is that
    Francis, who appeared to be so charmingly simple, was actually a very complicated man, many marvelous things at once.

    Francesco di Bernardone, the son of Pietro di Bemardone and Giovanna (“Pica”) di Bernardone, was born in Assisi early in 1182. His father
    was a well-to-do textile merchant. The baby was baptized Giovanni, but
    Pietro, a Francophile who had been on a business trip to France on his
    son’s day of birth, gave him the additional name Francesco, the
    “little Frenchman”. That was the name that stuck.

    Francis grew up therefore in affluent circumstances. He learned his
    father’s trade well, but he was also a “showy spender”. Money made him
    a leader among his teen-aged friends in their much partying. Even so,
    he was never insensitive to the needs of the poor.

    It took young Bernardone several years to discover his true destiny.
    Raised by his father on the poems and songs of French chivalry, he at
    first felt called to be a soldier. When he was 20, Assisi became
    involved in an armed dispute with the nearby city of Perugia. Francis
    enlisted and marched with his fellow townsmen against the Perugian
    enemy. But the Perugians won the battle, captured the young would-be
    warrior, and held him prisoner for a year. When they released him he
    returned home only to be stricken with a serious illness that
    incapacitated him for another 12 months. Captivity and illness did
    not, however, dissuade him immediately from military ambitions. Once recuperated, he volunteered to join the papal army of Walter de la
    Brienne, who was opposing the German emperor’s efforts to conquer
    Italy. But en route to the battlefield (no farther south than
    Spoleto), Francis was taken ill again. In a dream he heard a voice
    inviting him to “follow the master rather than the man.” So he turned
    his horse back to Assisi. He did not know the meaning of the obscure
    dream, but convinced of its spiritual import, he forsook both business
    and partying thereafter, and began to meditate and pray a lot. His
    social crowd noticed thereafter that he was quieter and more pensive.
    Asked if he was perhaps in love, he replied, “Yes, I am going to take
    a wife more beautiful and worthy than all you know.” The “wife,” it
    would turn out, would be “Lady Poverty.”

    When out riding one day he encountered a leper in the road. Shocked,
    he automatically turned back from the “unclean” one. Then, realizing
    what he had done, in a moment of grace he dismounted, approached the
    stricken man, put a coin in his hand and kissed it. In later years he
    would refer to this episode as the moment when he had “left the
    world.”

    God advanced him one step more in fall 1203. As Francis prayed in the half-ruined church of San Damiano outside the city walls, he seemed to
    hear Christ telling him, through the lips of the figure on the altar
    cross, “Francis, go and repair my church, which as you can see is in ruins.” Interpreting the command literally, Francesco rushed off to
    gather structural materials. To pay for these materials he took some
    bolts of cloth from his father’s shop and sold them. When Pietro
    learned of this he was furious. He had been trying of late to get his
    son to come back to the family store. Now, hard man that he was, he
    haled Francis before the church court of the bishop of Assisi,
    demanding that he pay for the “stolen” cloth, and threatening to
    disinherit him. The bishop instructed Francis to pay for the fabric,
    which he did. But he also renounced his inheritance, and even returned
    the clothing on his back to his father, declaring that henceforth only
    God the Father would be his parent. Clothed in a borrowed smock, young Bernardone thus publicly proclaimed his dedication to God in voluntary
    poverty. Henceforth he would live the gospel literally, and depend
    only on the alms given him by permission of Lady Poverty.

    Francis increased his hours of prayer, his begging on behalf of the
    needy, and his manual labor. He restored not only San Damiano church
    but also two others: St. Peter’s and St. Mary of the Angels. While
    attending Mass in the last-named church in 1208, he heard the Gospel
    passage read, in which Christ sent his disciples forth in poverty to
    preach the Good News. (Mt 10:7-19). He concluded that this was God’s revelation to him of his own special vocation. At once he started to
    preach repentance and peace through the streets of Assisi. The
    response to his message was immediate. Not only did he attract the
    populace; within a few weeks a dozen men begged him to let them join
    him in this work. A new religious order thus came into existence.
    Francis called them the “Fratres Minores” (“Lesser Brethren”). With their help he preached penance and poverty throughout Italy. He went
    to Rome with them in 1210 and received from Pope Innocent III the
    verbal approval of a simple rule of life for them to follow. Francis
    himself was ordained a deacon around the same time. Out of humility he
    never sought promotion to the priesthood.

    The friars were assigned the chapel of the Porziuncola as their
    headquarters, but Francis insisted on paying rent for it. To his mind
    the Friars Minor, consecrated above all to poverty, should own no
    property even as a community.

    The Friars Minor exploded into existence. By 1220 they numbered almost
    five thousand. In 1212 Francis, aided by St. Clare, also established a
    female branch, the Poor Clares; and in 1221 he would set up a third
    order for lay persons. Some of these tertiaries lived together in
    their own religious communities; the rest, men and women, followed the
    ideals of the order while remaining in the world.

    Italy needed just this, for contemporary heretics, practicing a
    poverty that contrasted with the luxury of the current Catholic
    clergy, had prompted many Italians to repudiate the hierarchy. On the
    other hand, the Franciscan friars, begging crusts for themselves and
    the poor from door to door, were unswerving in their loyalty to the
    pope and bishops.

    The friars were soon preaching penance throughout Italy. Francis
    himself before long gave the order an international character. Still a
    soldier and crusader at heart, he sought personally (without luck) to
    convert the Muslims in Egypt.

    Franciscans would eventually get access to the Mideast, to China, and
    even to the New World. But in the Founder’s day they concentrated particularly on re-evangelizing the length and breadth of Italy. It
    was wonderful to see how the simple sermons of the friars touched the
    hearts of people. Cures and moral miracles were reported wherever they
    went. About them arose a legendary aura that found literary expression
    in charming collections of stories about Francis and his friars. One
    thinks of the early biographies, of the Mirror of Perfection, of The
    Little Flowers of St. Francis. Here we still meet Francis the
    troubadour, the preacher to the birds, the promoter of Christmas
    cribs, the tamer of the wolf of Gubbio, the environmentalist. Like a
    knight errant, liberated by poverty, he brought a fresh prospect of Christianity wherever he went.

    Why this phenomenal growth of the Franciscan order? It so happened
    that Francis’ era was one of spiritual decline and worldliness. In
    God’s providence, he was meant to revive the faith by kindling anew a
    warm Christian devotion. It was also an era of heresy, especially
    Catharism, which denied the goodness of God’s creation. Reintroducing
    the faithful to the simple life, Francis refuted Catharism with his
    joyful praise of all God’s creation.

    Francis of Assisi’s personal attractiveness assisted him mightily in
    his work as a reformer. The rise of a whole literature on the
    beginnings of the Friars Minor bears witness to this charm: his own
    few writings; his early biographies; and the several collections of
    legends, especially the Fioretti (“The Little Flowers”). But the
    entrancing stories of his gentleness, his affection for all of God’s creatures as his “brothers” and “sisters”, and even the accounts of Francis as a miracle worker, should not obscure the fact that the “Poverello” was likewise a man of terrifying self-denial, one whose suffering, mental and physical, made him resemble Christ more and more
    as time passed.

    The Franciscan Order itself caused him much mental anguish. As it grew
    in size, its members were always in danger of watering down the
    radical poverty that the founder had espoused. To head off a division
    in the Franciscan family, all members, including Francis himself, had
    to agree to a new rule that made some concessions to practicality.
    Francis did not like the concessions, but when Pope Honorius III
    approved the new rule in 1223, the Saint, always respectful of
    authority, accepted it. Even in his last testament, however, he would
    urge the importance of strict poverty, not only of the individual
    friars but of the whole order. He himself had retired as “minister
    general” of the friars in 1220, to be succeeded by Fra Elias of
    Cortona.

    In his latter years, Francis underwent much physical suffering.
    Chronic stomach trouble and incipient blindness took their toll. The
    “cure” attempted on his eyes–cauterizing them with fire – proved as crude as it was ineffective. In these same days of retirement he
    reached the climax of his prayer-life. In 1223, while spending
    Christmas at Greccio, he devised the first-known Christmas crib beside
    the altar. Then and afterward, his prayers were often accompanied by
    ecstasies and levitations, which he sought to conceal.

    In 1224, when he was praying in a little rural hermitage at LaVerna,
    he fell into an ecstatic state during which he received the stigmata
    of Jesus crucified. This is the first recorded case of a person
    receiving the marks of Christ’s passion. In Francis’ case the charisma meant additional pain, because the hand and foot wounds in his case
    had in them “nails” of hard flesh, which made walking difficult. The imprints of the Passion can be considered as confirming Francis’
    spiritual resemblance to Christ himself....

    Towards the end of his life Francis added a final verse to his
    Canticle in praise of our “Sister, Bodily Death”. As that Sister approached, he had himself carried back to the Franciscan headquarters
    at the Church of the Portiuncula, and laid on the ground. Having made
    his peace with all his brethren and urged them always to love each
    other, to love Lady Poverty, and to love and honor the clergy of the
    Church, he died in the early evening of October 3, 1266, as the
    Passion according to St. John was being read....
    –Father Robert


    Saint Quote:
    "The Church is bathed in the light of the Lord, and pours her rays
    over the whole world; but it is one light that is spread everywhere,
    and the unity of her structure is undivided."
    --St. Cyprian [251AD], The Unity of the Catholic Church


    <><><><>
    Meditation:
     Why did Jesus leave his disciples forty days after his resurrection?
    Forty is a significant number in the scriptures. Moses went to the
    mountain to seek the face of God for forty days in prayer and fasting.
    The people of Israel were in the wilderness for forty years in
    preparation for their entry into the promised land. Elijah fasted for
    forty days as he journeyed in the wilderness to the mountain of God.
    For forty days after his resurrection Jesus appeared numerous times to
    his disciples to assure them that he had risen indeed and to prepare
    them for the task of carrying on the work which he began during his
    earthly ministry.

    --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
    * Origin: www.darkrealms.ca (1:229/2)