Franciscana Pax

Deep and Lasting Joy

These too-familiar words of the Gospel of Matthew regain something of their original startling impact when someone lives them concretely, like Saint Francis. Having thrown away money, social standing, and everything else normally considered part of a happy life, he radiated such obvious, profound joy that even hard hearts wondered.

Now as then, joy—deep, lasting joy—is rare. Depression and anxiety are everywhere, multiplied by the troubles of loved ones and of the country, Church, and world. Saint Francis, too, knew great suffering; his path of sanctity began with being cut off from his family and friends, and ended with painful sickness and loss of sight. He was also well aware of the sufferings around him, and cared with all the intensity of his burning heart, giving any surplus to the poor and washing lepers with his own hands. Yet no cross could darken the radiant joy of which Chesterton wrote, in his biography of the saint, “The whole point about St. Francis of Assisi is that he certainly was ascetical and he certainly was not gloomy … [His life] was as positive as a passion; it had all the air of being as positive as a pleasure.”

Admittedly Francis was blessed with a naturally cheerful disposition that showed itself throughout his life, before as well as after he devoted himself wholly to God. “No one sang with gladder abandon,” says Mother Mary Francis, P.C.C., “no one laughed and danced and toasted his comrades with such irresistible charm” (A Right to be Merry). By itself, however, the gift of a happy personality would not have transformed his life, sparked a spiritual revolution, or inspired the world.

Joy in Poverty and Suffering

When Francis said yes to the invitation of God’s grace, his natural merriment grew into something greater. It was taken up into that joy that is considered a fruit of the Holy Spirit (Gal 5:22) and “a fundamental distinguishing characteristic of Christians” (Pope Benedict XVI). As a “little poor man,” Mother Mary Francis says, he “laughed and sang for sheer joy because he had nothing under the sun but only a Father above it.”

Francis’s freely chosen poverty was not an obstacle but a means to his joy. With no material possessions, he had nothing to worry about, no temptation to think he needed anything but God, Whom he had found to be more than enough to fill his heart forever. He rejoiced like the man in the parable of the buried treasure, who gladly sold everything for the field that held it (Mt 13:44). The many who were drawn to him during his life, and who have been drawn ever since, have seen in his example that this Treasure can be theirs too.

Total Freedom in Total Abandonment 

In another marvelous paradox, this entrusting of his whole heart to God alone made created things not less but more wonderful for Francis. He could sincerely embrace a leper, speak words of kindness to a bandit, and call natural forces his family, because in all of them he saw a gift of the One he loved, a brother or sister to welcome. Chesterton’s biography imagines Francis saying, “Blessed is he who expecteth nothing, for he shall enjoy everything.” Another saying that could well be applied really is found in the Sermon on the Mount: “Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things shall be yours as well” (Mt 6:33).

How this joy can coexist with suffering will be explored in a subsequent article. Meanwhile, we who seek to imitate Saint Francis can ask him for the courage to imitate his complete trust and love. As he shows us, God is not outdone in generosity. When human beings give themselves to God, He responds in kind, giving them the infinite treasure of Himself—a never-ending reason for joy.