October 4, 2009
(Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost; Proper 22)

(From The Lectionary Page)

The Troublemaker from Assisi

Photo of The Very Rev. Dean Terry White by The Very Rev. Terry White, Dean

Some of you will recall that I grew up in town of 7,000 in southeast Iowa. 7,007 to be exact was the population of Mt. Pleasant when I was in second grade. The spring of second grade was a special time for me, because I loved to play baseball, and at that age I was able to join a real Little League team that would play in the coming summer.  There were three leagues, and the ball fields were scattered all around town.  These baseball diamonds were also used for other things, like parking for city events and the county fair, so most fields were not in good shape.  So a group of dedicated citizen organized a project to raise money to build a complex with three ball fields, lots of parking, a concession stand and lights that would allow several games to be played each summer night. The players were asked to help raise money, and if all went well, by the next summer we would play ball at the Little League Sports Complex.

The project I signed up for last for months. Most every Saturday afternoon, after watching cartoons and having lunch, I would set out from our house pulling my red radio flyer wagon.  At every house that looked friendly where it appeared someone was home, I would knock on the door and say that I was raising money for the little league complex. Then I would ask if they had any old newspapers I could put in my wagon, because something new had just come to our small town: there was a collection center where you could turn in old newspapers and get a nickel per pound. Now a nickel was worth a lot back then J so I was highly motivated!  It took a lot of papers to make the effort pay-off.  But I was cute as a pug-nosed-puppy so most folks could not resist me and gave me papers that they would otherwise burn in the back yard. 

It seemed to my tiny little arms that I collected hundreds if not thousands of pounds of newspapers each week, despite the small size of the wagon. But while that part of the memory is fuzzy, I do remember stacking the papers in the garage, and every few weeks going with my mom or dad to redeem the piles of old newspapers. It was my first introduction to recycling.

Growing up in farm country, conservation and care for the waters and lands was something you did not merely learn – you lived it. And these were the days of radio jingles telling us “please, please, don’t be a litter bug” and the television public service message featuring a Native American reacting to the signs of pollution with a tear running down one cheek.

Caring for the earth is now big business, and is a political hot potato, and both far too often obscure the heart of caring for the earth:  God said that we are to care for creation as God himself would.

Today is the Feast of St. Francis, and though his feast does not rank high enough to bump our Sunday observance, Francis’ life calls us to care for creation, serve the poor, live simply, and do it all solely because we love God and His son Jesus Christ.

At birth, Francis received the name Giovanni (John), in honor of John the Baptist, but his father changed his name to Francis because he did not want his son named for a saint. Though blessed with popularity and riches, Francis had a tumultuous youth, was a street fighter and a disobedient soldier, and was considered to be one of the leaders of the dissident youth of the town of Assisi. While imprisoned due to misconduct in a battle, he had a life-altering spiritual experience which led him to a change of heart and change of life.

Upon his release, Francis gave up all material possessions and renounced his inheritance, which, having come from a very wealthy family, was a large sacrifice. His mission forward was to follow his faith, and he recognized that in order to do so, he must first rid himself of excess, of boastfulness, of ego -- traits that tyrannize our modern times as they did Francis’.

Dressed in ragged clothes, working as a brick layer, and often begging for his sustenance to survive, yet all the while preaching peace and purity, Francis’ family and old friends either beheld him with great sorrow or with great embarrassment. Many even considered him a “religious nut” and treated him poorly, not understanding the depth of his calling. His father even attempted to have him imprisoned or committed to an asylum.

The Church also saw him as a threat. He was an unconventional revolutionary of sorts. His calls for poverty, simplicity, and sincere love were seen as threats to the status quo.  (http://www.myhero.com/myhero/hero.asp?hero=assisi)

Francis’ preaching was simple and sincere:
I have been all things unholy.
If God can work through me, he can work through anyone.
Start by doing what's necessary; then do what's possible; and suddenly you are doing the impossible.
 
The images of beloved Francis enshrined in stone garden statues and stained glass windows convey the holiness  experienced by the forgotten and the despised, and those monks and nuns who joined his community. But he himself was despised, ridiculed, and condemned by those who turned their backs on society’s neediest. And the Church, as the guardian of the status quo, was particularly threatened.

Two years before he died, Francis received the stigmata, and in his body he bore the five wounds of Christ’s crucifixion.  Long before those wounds appeared, Francis bore the marks of Christ in every aspect of his life. And once the stigmata was manifested in him, his proclamation of the Gospel became more powerful, for if the Church is to truly to be the Body of Christ, each of us must live with the wounds of redemption. Compassion, simplicity, an unquenchable desire to serve, a reverence for creation that brings us to our knees, and praise of God that never ceases – these are the marks of Christ Francis still calls the Church to embrace.

Our Sunday lessons for the next several weeks will come from Job, Hebrews, and Mark speak of the marks we are to bear:

Those newspapers I hauled for the sake of the Little League, the hundreds and hundreds of pounds of newspapers, were refuse, saved from the trash, saved from burning, and were redeemed. They were of value. Francis teaches us that nothing in creation: a forest, a body of water, an animal, a leper, is valueless. Every created thing shows forth God’s glory, as does, according to Francis’ great hymn says, Gentle Death, who leads us home to God.

May the wisdom of God help us see God’s glory in those most unlikely places. Together as the Body of Christ, let us bear the marks of Our Lord’s Passion, shake some foundations, and live as faithful followers of Him who loved sacrificially, forgave unconditionally, served constantly, and praised God through it all. And let us be clear: such will threaten every status quo.

Let us pray.

Lord, make us instruments of your peace. Where there is hatred, let us sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is discord, union; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy. Grant that we may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.  Amen.