Divine Power in Prayer and Poverty

St. Francis reminds us that the Word of the Father became flesh and dwelt in the poverty of our limitations and ordinariness. It is precisely in His hiddenness in ordinary moments that the Son of the humble Handmaid of Nazareth communicates divine meaning into human frailty, For St. Francis, this meant rebuilding churches, not merely the physical buildlings, but reviving the spiritual hearts of those gathered for prayer. He advocated a return to penance. That is, acts of devotion aimed at an acceptance of the brokenness of loves, of the world and of the present moment. An act of penance is the effort to gather this together with joy and offer it to the Lord with all the love of our heart. Such was Francis's secret for entering into the blessedness of the poor in spirit. This kind of poverty, a self-emptying love, a humility unto death, is a gift from Jesus that opens the eyes of our hearts to Him. We need strength to comprehend Him in this way. No natural power can grasp Him, but He freely gives His own courage to those who by faith dare to open the eyes of their hearts to the fullness of life He yearns to give.

St. Francis loved to contemplate the Cross. Indeed, we become what we contemplate. To behold the Self-emptied One is to see the Father, and something of the Father's tender love in Francis drew souls to embrace the Gospel with him. The early friars listened to, read, discussed and with the help of St. Francis, tried to radically live the teachings of Jesus. Together, they formed an island of humanity. They witnessed to something beyond the material success that had intoxicated their peers and dominated the social efforts of their day. They found a fraternity, a solidarity of hearts bound by the Gospel of Christ. They seemed powerless and inconsequential, even foolish and strange. Yet, they were among the few who actually realized all that was at stake in their times. For indeed, love alone sees the truth. The Cross was the key to their dedication, as if they were gathered with St. Francis under its very shadow, searching for the eyes of Christ, knowing that in those eyes were answers to the burning questions of their hearts.

How we need such a renewal of prayer and solidarity of hearts today. To behold the face of Christ crucified is to contemplate the tender truth about who God is and who we are to be called by Him. We must search for His gaze even when it seems impossible to find. This means when all seems most meaningless, he shows us His gaze of love. In our suffering and loneliness, His gaze is turned to us, waiting for our gaze to reach His. Even as the mystery of our own sin destroys all that we most hold dear, His very eyes reveal mysteries even more meaningful that are holding us together. If it seems to you that nothing has happened in your prayerful search for Him, your prayer's painful silence is finally pregnant with his last wordless cry. There is indeed a love that is stronger than death, and the waters of chaos cannot drown it out - but for it to be born in us, we must face death and stand firm amidst what may well destroy us. Penance is a spiritual act that chooses to enter this space. Those who dare open the eyes of their hearts on edge of such sorrow soon discover that living in the eyes of the Risen Lord is a supernatural understanding, a new firmness for feet that have lost their foothold in this world, a higher ground strong enough to bear the weight of our existence even as the ebb and flow of time would carry us away.

Where does such penitential love take us today? In our cities, thin sheets of stainglass shelter the sacred from the ceaseless bustle of a concrete jungle. Such buildings were the sacred center of a once thriving neighborhood filled with families. Now they sit, largely abandoned, in a sea of empty sidewalks, delivery trucks and driverless vehicles. There are people and appartments, witnesses to the material bliss of urban success. If life's questions ever grip their hearts, they in no way suspect that the very source of life is their next door neighbor. He waits for them, a darkened copper clad door that they pass along the sidewalk of the daily grind. They walk close enough that their tassels brush against Him as if He were a homeless beggar. The Source of Life is hidden in plain sight. They are so secularized that their eyes do not register the cross peaked towers reaching over them or the protective shadows cast on their apartments, or the gothic arches of heaven reaching for earth and earth to heaven. The language of sacred architecture strikes them as gibberish, and the peeling of the Angelus as purposeless clanging. Yet, inside the Holy of Holies calls to them and waits, surrounded as he was at Golgotha, by a few unknown women, a beloved disciple and His Mother. This is the place where St. Francis went to rebuild the Church. It is here that the marks of Christ are communicated into the soul and the that power of the ressurrection is unleashed anew.

St. Francis knew that the prayer of these holy few always knows great power. It is no mistake that God has called them under the shadow of the Cross at not just any time or place, but in this sacred time and in this sacred place. The very poverty of the location and the moment make it rich with Him. If missionary disciples do not know how to bridge the difference in language and culture that would seem to make the secularized materialist impervious to the message of the Gospel, it is only because they have not allowed Christ to be for themselves the bridge to the Father. Yet only when we accept the impoverished circumstances of who we are and where we stand before God can we find the shadow of the Cross. Only when we finally see that we really need a savior can the Savior save us.

St. Francis formed islands of humanity in the ruins of little churches that the world had forgetton. He knew that these faithful friends of the Lord, gathered together in a humble sanctuary, were learning confidnce in the Father and in His wonderful plan for them. Because they were crossing the Bridge to the Father through ongoing conversion and dedication to prayer, they learned out this plan includes a whole harmony of hidden moments filled with such fullnesses of meaning -- if only we would suffer the silence that allows Him to communicate this fullness into our hearts! St. Francis and his first followers knew this, and today, believers can find this again even as they are hidden in the anonymity of a forgotten parish Church in the banality of an urban neighborhood. Just as St. Francis would set the world aflame with the love of God 850 years ago, such knowledge is even more explosive today. Indeed, without even knowing it, believers are unleashing it anew. Just as did St. Francis, they have found the fountain of life not only for themselves but for neighbors who do not even know they are there.