By Robert Royal
Pope Francis left the Church with multiple controversies, some inherited and others provoked by himself. Indeed, amid complaints about clericalism and “reactionaries,” and the notable presence of LGBT and feminist themes in recent ecclesiastical pronouncements, we might ask where to find a more robust Catholicism, even militant and manly, so necessary in the face of the challenges of resurgent Islam and the decay of the West. Much of this can be considered in light of the late Pope’s decision—being a Jesuit!—to take the name of the little poor man of Assisi, Saint Francis.
I have been reflecting on these issues while reading Francis of Assisi: A New Biography by Augustine Thompson, O.P., which is “new” not only because it is relatively recent, but because it follows an interesting path to identify the “historical Francis.” That is, insofar as we can reconstruct him from the most reliable sources, amid traditional myths and modern “Francises”: the hippie Francis, the Francis of a poor and stripped-down Church, the ecologist Francis, etc. And although Thompson does not completely discard the ancient accounts nor the modern romantic versions, he offers corrections worthy of the full attention of anyone concerned with historical truth.
An emblematic example: most people believe that the cloying “Prayer of Saint Francis” (“Make me an instrument of your peace”) was written by the saint. In reality, it was composed around 1912, in French. And even more significant: “No matter how noble his sentiments, Francis would not have written a piece like this, centered as it is on the self, with the constant repetition of the pronouns ‘I’ and ‘me,’ without the words ‘God’ or ‘Jesus’ appearing even once.” Thompson notes that this discovery is usually very painful for his students, who have been led to believe the opposite.
As this example shows, Thompson is meticulous with the sources and clarifies numerous misunderstandings. In fact, this biography is also “new” because of its curious structure. It has—nominally—little less than 300 pages, but only the first half is biography. The second consists, not of footnotes, but of brief discussions on the issues raised, chapter by chapter, among scholars. In this way, it is an invaluable guide for those who wish to approach the true Saint Francis, and not a figure fabricated to serve contemporary agendas.
Of course, it is not easy to transpose what Francis did in the 13th century to our current era. But there are several interesting points of contact. For example, in relation to the “Prayer of Francis,” the saint did seek peace among the Italians of his time, who were almost perpetually at war, not only between rival city-states (in which Francis himself had fought), but also between highly polarized factions within the same cities, including Assisi. Francis focused more on bringing people to a state of inner peace than on a political program.
As Thompson explains, “One thing that distinguishes Francis from other medieval peacemakers, before or after, was his absolute lack of a program of legal or social reforms.” It may have been precisely because of that that he exercised a strong personal magnetism, without even intending to, among the bewildered souls of his time.
Nor does he seem to have had a “religious program” in the sense of an organized effort at reform. His “program” was to live according to the simple terms of the Gospel. Here too, his impact was probably greater in the medieval world—and beyond—than if he had founded a religious order of a more programmatic character.
Indeed, according to Thompson, even the growth of what became the Franciscan Order was more the result of people deciding to follow him, than of the group’s dedication to a well-articulated corporate purpose.
Surprises appear throughout the book. For example, Francis was not a precursor of felt-banner and ceramic-chalice churches. He was not too concerned with theological disputes or liturgical wars, but from his early days as a penitent, “he linked penance for sin with care for sacred places. He wanted the worship of God and the celebration of the sacraments to have the best possible equipment and preparation.”
Of course, given fallen human nature, even the simplest evangelical approach gave rise to tensions within the Franciscan Order itself, as different interpretations arose of what “simplicity” meant. But Francis held it all together thanks to the extraordinary appeal of his depth and sincerity.
Even so, he was a controversial figure even in the Middle Ages. Some thought that what Francis was doing was precisely what the very practical Saint Benedict had warned against. In Paradiso, Dante addresses the supposed rivalry between Franciscans and Dominicans by having Saint Thomas Aquinas praise Francis while deploring the corrupt members of his own order, and Saint Bonaventure praise the Dominicans while lamenting the decay among the Franciscans.
The only truly constant thing in Francis’s life was evangelization. Today, the Church talks a lot about ecumenism and peaceful coexistence between religions, which is understandable given the state of the world. But Francis, famously, traveled to Egypt to convert Sultan al-Kamil, and was received courteously, something almost miraculous considering the ongoing war and the usual treatment received by Christians seeking to convert Muslims: death. He did not succeed, but clearly impressed the Muslim leader.
Some critics of Thompson’s work have complained that he loses Francis’s poetry amid the narrow prose of academic rigor. Perhaps, but the book remains a fascinating read. And we have had so many “creative interpretations”—good ones, like Chesterton’s (though “perhaps more Chesterton than Francis”), and others less fortunate, like those of Leonardo Boff, who transformed the apolitical Francis into a liberation theologian (who “subverts capitalist hierarchies”)—that this work is very useful to have on hand when navigating more extravagant versions.
Because the little poor man of Assisi deserves every possible attempt to understand him more fully. If anyone can be called alter Christus, it is he.
About the author:
Robert Royal is editor-in-chief of The Catholic Thing and president of the Faith & Reason Institute in Washington, D.C. His most recent books are The Martyrs of the New Millennium: The Global Persecution of Christians in the Twenty-First Century, Columbus and the Crisis of the West y A Deeper Vision: The Catholic Intellectual Tradition in the Twentieth Century.