Franciscan Living: A Different Kind of Beauty
(This article originally appeared in the Summer/Fall 2019 issue of the TAU-USA.)
By Francine Gikow, OFS
Are you wounded? Were you wounded by someone or some experience that impacts you to this day? Do you carry those experiences like baggage that weigh you down and impede your joy in life? Did you ask for healing, but God seemingly ignores your plea? Do you know that your wounds can be beautiful? How is that even possible?
I believe everyone is has experienced some sort of “wounded-ness” in their past. No one is immune. However, some people seem to attract more than their share of catastrophe and suffering. You may know someone like this, but in spite of the wounds, he or she demonstrates trust, peace and the love of God. That’s beauty!
So let’s take a closer look at wounds, holiness and beauty. St. Francis had wounds —both emotional and physical. His emotional wounds might have been caused by his experience of war in Perugia and developed into what is now known as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It was in prison that St. Francis 1 examined his life and his relationship with God. Francis also had (I am sure) emotional wounds from his fractured relationship with his father, which may never have been resolved.
Francis’ physical wounds are also well documented. His failing health and eyesight impaired his ministry. It must have been such a source of frustration and suffering! But it was his bodily bearing of the wounds of Christ in secret and silence that mirrored Christ’s love. Francis became an “alter Christus.”
Celano reflected on the paradox of how Francis’ bodily wounds could be beautiful:
“… they rendered beautiful that sick and tormented body…. Because they also showed forth the wounds of Christ, they spoke to those who saw them about the way in which our wounds are transformed by the presence of the Incarnate Word who came into our world to share our grief.”2
Sr. Mary Teresa Downing, OSC, describes the sanctification of our wounds, stating: “Those wounds are imprinted by the hand of God…especially when we abandon ourselves to the work of redemption so that it can flow outward from our own lives.” 3 What does “the work of redemption” mean here? How do we do it?
The “work of redemption” is the joining of our suffering with Jesus for the sanctification of the world. In other words: Offer it up! Offer it up to God for others. “Offering it up” gets us past our own self pity and gives us a focus on others. It makes our wounds precious by giving them spiritual value. Like Francis, others may see our lives transformed with the presence of God and find a way to glimpse God through us.
It is not easy to “offer up” our sufferings to God. Wallowing in self pity sure feels good at times. We are so tempted to keep feeding our wounds and thereby enlarging them by giving them inordinate attention. Instead of feeding our self pity, isn’t it better to turn our attention to what we can do with our wounds by making them our own “work of redemption.” Sounds simple, but it’s difficult to do!
Instead, think about how our love of God and others can be a beautiful gift! Sharing in the work of redemption is a thing of beauty because we share in His love for us and in the beauty of the Son of God. Jesus carried his wounds of betrayal, crucifixion, and death as a sign of His Love for us. As St. Clare says, “gaze, consider, contemplate [sic] desiring to imitate your Spouse!”4
Do not be afraid of your wounds. Do not consider them “baggage” or something to endure. Rather, see their beauty as Christ sees them:
“If you suffer with Him, you will reign with Him. Weeping with Him, you will rejoice with Him; dying on the cross of tribulation with Him, you will possess heavenly mansions with Him among the splendor of the saints…“5
1 Weichec, Nancy. “St. Francis and US Veterans.” St. Anthony Messenger, 24 Oct. 2018.
2 Celano, Life of St. Francis, Ch IX as described in Downing, O.S.C., Sr. Frances Teresa. Saint Clare of Assisi. Tau Publishing, 2 2015. p. 154-5.
3 Downing, p. 154. 3
4 2LAg:20
5 2LAg: 21
Stretching
(This article originally appeared in the Summer/Fall issue of the TAU-USA)
by Jane DeRose-Bamman, OFS
How willing am I to do God’s will? If I pray or say God’s will be done – do I mean it? Of course, that is what the Franciscan journey is all about – recognizing God is in control.
In many ways, trusting in God’s will is like stretching. If you’ve ever had a pulled muscle, you know the importance of stretching before exercising. Tight or taut muscles can be loosened up by slow steady stretches or easy repetitive motions to warm-up the muscles. It’s amazing how much additional length you can get by stretching those muscles – back, legs, arms. It’s worth it to take the time to stretch so one can avoid dealing with the pain.
This lesson can be applied to our prayer lives. We need to experience a form of stretching to prepare us for various struggles that may find their way into our lives. This is what I’ve come to think of as spiritual stretching.
You have an encounter that challenges you; for example:
- Someone cuts you off in traffic or at the grocery store.
- A fraternity brother or sister takes an opposite political position than you.
- A family member or coworker disrespects you.
- You, a family member or friend is very sick.
How do you respond? What does it take to respond gracefully and lovingly if any response is needed? Can we allow ourselves to be stretched a bit with each encounter?
As a recovering perfectionist, although I have been professed for more than 24 years, my spiritual stretching or limberness has varied throughout the years. Physically, I’ve never been able to bend over and touch my toes without bending my knees. Spiritually, I continue to work on allowing God to lead.
One area where I have experienced spiritual stretching is in response to nominations to serve on OFS fraternity councils. I have been a nominee many times. But I haven’t always had the “God’s will be done” attitude or “a ready and willing spirit[1]”. In fact, there were times when I said no, or made it known ahead of time, that I didn’t have time to serve. I didn’t even pray about it before I responded. I just knew that if my name were to be placed on the ballot I would be elected. (Some humility, eh?) My time was filled – working fulltime, building a relationship with my husband, who wasn’t a Franciscan, and participating in other interests (e.g., tennis, volunteer activities). So I took matters into my own hands – not accepting the nomination or accepting it while grumbling about all the other things I had to do. Well, God worked on my humility and trust – for in some of those elections I wasn’t elected![2] Wonderful examples of the reality that God IS in control of the elections too – no matter how good a candidate I thought I was. As I stretched – spiritually – I came to understand that God knew that I was not ready and was perhaps “not qualified” to serve.
Praying, and allowing God to work through prayer time can transform us from a babbling shallow stream to a calm deep body of water. These days, when I get ready to do something – I’m getting better at saying or thinking, “Okay God, it’s your lead.” I’m getting better at stretching to allow time for God to lead my responses instead of allowing my initial reactions to be the first thing out of my mouth.
If God hasn’t given up on me yet, then I certainly want to keep trying and will put the necessary time into the stretching. Maybe someday I’ll be able to touch my toes without bending my knees… spiritually speaking.
[1] OFS Rule Article 21
[2] My name had been on the ballot as a nominee for a National Executive Council position for elections held in 2003, 2006, 2009, 2012, 2015 and 2018. For five of those elections, I wasn’t elected. It began to feel like “Always a nominee and never an executive council member.” Surprisingly, I was elected in October 2018.