St. Francis by Bill Droel
Pope Leo XIV declares 2026 as “Year of St. Francis of Assisi.”
Christians today are mistaken to reduce St. Francis (1181-1226) to merely a wanderer who talks to birds and negotiates peace with a wolf. The essence of his life was a cultural and deeply spiritual critique of his society, a critique that today pertains even more.
The world’s Catholic bishops, meeting at Vatican II (1962-1965), affirmed our modern ambitions and achievements, specifically noting advancements in commerce, technology, and research. Our bishops then raised poignant questions: “What is the meaning and value of this feverish activity? How should all these things be used? To what goal are the strivings of individuals and societies heading?”
St. Francis dealt with these questions dramatically. The title to a 1979 biography by Adolf Holl captures St. Francis’ stance: The Last Christian. Holl begins by noting the introduction of public clocks in Europe, including the first mechanical clock in Italy. The mercantile economy of St. Francis’ time and of our own capitalist economy need the minute-by-minute precision of clocks, watches, mobile devices, and other inventions. St. Francis foresaw where such emphasis on efficiency was heading. “One man looked into the motivating thrust behind the whole modern thing and decisively rejected it,” Holl says.
St. Francis valued solitary prayer. But unlike hermits, he did not withdraw from the world. Nor was he a monastic, living in a gated community inside a larger town. St. Francis was out-and-about. His religious order of mendicant friars had a mission to the world.
St. Francis preached the raw gospel, though more by using gestures than words. His interaction with animals, for example, was meant to teach his followers and us that we are interrelated with all creation; that we participate in God’s desire to reestablish Eden and to enjoy a preview of heaven here on earth.
St. Francis’ compassion toward lepers and beggars, as another example, calls attention to those left behind in our busy society. A fellow friar once told St. Francis about a beggar looking for a handout. However, the friar found nothing of value in their modest house. “Go to our chapel,” St. Francis instructed. “Give this beggar a cherished vessel. Our Blessed Lady is more pleased with our care for the poor than with our care for her chapel.”
St. Francis’ father was in the textile trade. No surprise then that St. Francis was attuned to fashion. However, in keeping with his skepticism of the latest fads, St. Francis suggested a simple garment for the friars, what young people today call “a hoodie.” Rather than a designer belt from Coach or LL Bean, St. Francis told the friars to use a piece of rope.
With exceptions, the upwardly mobile of his time dismissed St. Francis. Young people, however, caught his counter-cultural spirit and joined his community.
It is difficult to live the gospel of poverty in our land of plenty. It is often difficult to separate sanity from the chaos around us. But we can push back against the alienation of our culture and model an alternative. For most, that does not mean imitating St. Francis in all his gestures. We can, however, make our daily encounters personal, instead of mediated on mobile devices. We can add visits with the home-bound to monetary donations we make to St. Vincent de Paul or other charities. We can affirm the edginess of young adults rather than judge their lifestyles.
During this Year of St. Francis, I recommend reading Reluctant Saint by Donald Spoto, an accessible biography. It would also be beneficial to obtain Care for Our Common Home by Pope Francis (1936-2025) whose legacy certainly includes his insistence that care for the earth is linked to our option for the poor. Pope Francis’ Care for Our Common Home explicitly draws upon St. Francis’ concern for those two challenges.
More on the Year of St. Francis in a subsequent column, including comments on St. Francis and Church officials, St. Francis and Islam, and St. Francis and suffering.
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