Life of St. Francis of Assisi | 10
Chapter 10.
His fervour and diligence in prayer.
The servant of Christ, knowing that he was in his body a pilgrim and an exile from the Lord, had already become, for the charity of Christ, wholly insensible to the desire of earthly or exterior things, lest he should remain without the consolation of true love; and so, praying without intermission, he endeavoured to keep his spirit in the continual presence of God.
And great, assuredly, was his consolation in prayer, while he contemplated the whole circle of the mansions of the angels, with whom he was already a fellow-citizen; and with fervent desires sought his Beloved, from whom he was only divided by the wall of the flesh.
And this prayer was also a great help to him in all his works, wherein he distrusted his own endeavours; and trusting wholly in prayer, rested all his thoughts upon the Lord.
He affirmed that a religious man ought to desire above every other gift the grace of prayer; and believing that without it no progress can be made in the service of God, he laboured, by every means in his power, to excite his brethren to its exercise.
Whether walking or sitting, at home or abroad, labouring or resting, he was ever intent on prayer, so that he seemed to have dedicated to it not only his heart and his body, and all that was in him, but also his work and his time.
Neither was he ever accustomed negligently to pass over any spiritual visitation; but when it was offered to him he followed it, and as long as it was vouchsafed him by the Lord he enjoyed its sweetness;
for if, when journeying in intense thought, he felt some good and Divine inspiration, laying aside other thoughts, he dwelt upon this, turning the new inspiration to account, so that he received not that grace in vain.
He was often raised to such a height of contemplation, as to be carried out of himself; and experiencing something beyond human sense, he became unconscious of what passed around him.
Passing through the town of Santo Sepulchro, a very populous place, riding upon an ass, because of the weakness of his body, he was surrounded by a great crowd, who gathered round him from devotion.
Being pressed by the people on every side, he seemed to feel nothing, any more than if he had been an inanimate corpse; he took no notice of anything around him, nor was he conscious of anything that was done;
so that when he came to a hospital for poor lepers, which was on the other side of the town, as if awaking from his heavenly contemplations, he inquired anxiously whether they were near Santo Sepulchro.
For his mind, always intent on the glories of heaven, felt not the variation of places or times, or the presence of persons. And that this happened frequently is attested by the experience of many of his companions.
And having learnt in prayer that the desired presence of the Holy Ghost is enjoyed with greatest familiarity at a distance from the noise and distractions of the world, he sought out solitary places, making his nightly prayer in lonely and deserted churches.
Here he often endured most horrible conflicts with the demons, which sensibly attacked him, endeavouring to disturb him in his prayer.
But he, armed with celestial weapons, the more vehemently he was attacked by his enemies, had recourse the more fervently and earnestly to prayer, saying to the Lord: “Protect me under the shadow of Thy wings from the face of the wicked who afflict me.”
And then to the demons:
“Do your worst, malignant and false spirits, for you can do nothing but what you are permitted to do by God; and I am ready to suffer with all joy whatsoever His Divine goodness has decreed for me.”
And the proud demons, unable to endure this constancy of mind, retired in confusion.
The man of God remaining tranquil in his solitude, made the woods resound with his sighs, and bathed them with his tears.
He beat his breasts, and discoursed familiarly with his Lord:
Here he made answer to Him as a judge, besought Him as a father, conversed with Him as a friend;
and here he was often heard by the brethren, who piously observed him, imploring the Divine clemency for sinners with great sighs and tears, and crying with a loud voice, as if the Passion of the Lord had been presented before his eyes;
here he was seen praying all night long, with his arms extended in the form of a cross, his whole body being raised from the ground, and surrounded by a luminous cloud, so that the marvellous light which shone forth from his body bore glorious testimony to his wonderful illumination of mind.
Here again, as was proved by manifest signs, all the uncertain and hidden things of the Divine wisdom were revealed to him, which he divulged not to others, unless when the charity of Christ urged, and the profit of his neighbour required it.
For, he was wont to say that it is easy to lose, for a little price, a thing so precious that no price can purchase it, and thus to provoke the giver not to give it to us again.
When he returned from his private prayers, by which he was changed, as it were, into another man, he strove earnestly to conform himself to the manner of his companions,
lest he should show outwardly that which he had experienced within, and thus lose the interior reward by exposing it to the air of man’s admiration.
When he received any visitation from the Lord in public, he endeavoured to turn away the attention of the bystanders, lest the familiarity vouchsafed to him by his Divine Spouse should be made known to the world.
When he was in prayer with the brethren, he carefully avoided sighs, groans, or any exterior sign of emotion, whether because he loved secrecy, or because he was interiorly absorbed in the presence of God.
He would often say to the brethren: “When a servant of God receives any Divine inspiration in prayer, he ought to say:
“This consolation, O Lord, Thou hast sent from Heaven to me, a most unworthy sinner, and I commit it to Thy care, for I know that I should be but a thief of Thy treasure.
And when he returns to prayer, he ought to bear himself as a little one and a sinner, as if he had received no new grace from God.””
It happened one day when the holy man was at the Portiuncula, the Bishop of Assisi came, as was his custom, to visit him; and when he came to the place passed on, with greater confidence than was befitting, to the cell where the servant of Christ was praying:
He knocked at the door, and had no sooner put in his head than he beheld the holy man at prayer, and was immediately struck with terror;
his hair stood on end, and all his limbs seemed to stiffen, so that he even lost the use of his speech, and was suddenly and forcibly driven backwards by the Divine Power to a great distance from the cell.
The Bishop, in amazement, went to the brethren in such haste as he was able, and God having restored the use of his speech, his first word was to confess his fault
Another time the Abbot of the Monastery of St. Justin, of the diocese of Perugia, met the servant of Christ:
As soon as he saw him, the devout Abbot dismounted in haste that he might do reverence to the man of God, and confer with him concerning the salvation of souls.
After this sweet conference, the Abbot took his leave, humbly beseeching Francis to pray for him. The man dear to God replied, “I will willingly pray for thee.”
A little while after the Abbot’s departure, the faithful Francis said to his companion: “Wait awhile, brother, until I fulfil the promise which I have made.”
Now, while he was praying, the Abbot suddenly felt an unusual fervour and sweetness in his spirit, so that he was wrapped in ecstasy of mind, and wholly dissolved in God.
When he came to himself, he recognized the power of the prayer of St. Francis. From that moment he conceived an increased love for the Order, and related the fact as a miracle to many persons.
The holy man was accustomed to recite the Canonical Hours with the greatest reverence and devotion:
For although he suffered from weakness of the eyes, the stomach, the spleen, and the liver, yet while he said the Office he would never lean against the wall, but always stood erect and bare-headed, without wandering of the eye or any other interruption.
And when he was travelling he always stopped to say the Office, nor did he ever omit this holy and devout custom, however inclement the weather or abundant the rain.
For he said:
“If quiet is needed to eat the bread of the body, which, with what it eats, shall become the food of worms, with how far greater peace and tranquillity ought the soul to receive the nourishment of its life!”
He accounted it a great offence if, at the time of prayer, he was distracted by any vain fancies:
If any such thing befell him, he failed not immediately to expiate it by confession. And by this continual watchfulness it happened that he was rarely troubled by flies of this kind.
It happened one Lent that he had made a certain Vessel, in order to occupy his time, so that not the slightest portion of it might be lost.
As he was saying Tierce this work came into his memory, and distracted his mind for a moment. In fervour of spirit, he took the little vessel, and cast it into the fire, saying: “I will sacrifice to the Lord that which has hindered His sacrifice.”
He recited the Psalms with such attention of mind and spirit, as if he had God present with him; and whenever the name of the Lord occurred in them, it seemed to leave a sensible sweetness on his lips.
In order that the name of the Lord, not only in thought, but in speech or writing, should be fitly honoured, he persuaded the brethren, whenever they found any written papers, to lay them up carefully in some fitting place, lest perhaps the sacred name therein contained might be trodden under foot.
Whenever he spoke or heard the name of Jesus, the joy which filled him interiorly was manifestly seen in his exterior, even as if he tasted some sweet savour, or some harmonious sound filled his ear.
It happened in the third year before his death, that in order to excite the inhabitants of Grecio to commemorate the nativity of the Infant Jesus with great devotion,
he determined to keep it with all possible solemnity; and lest he should be accused of lightness or novelty, he asked and obtained the permission of the sovereign Pontiff.
Then he prepared a manger, and brought hay, and an ox and an ass to the place appointed.
The brethren were summoned, the people ran together, the forest resounded with their voices, and that venerable night was made glorious by many and brilliant lights and sonorous psalms of praise.
The man of God stood before the manger, full of devotion and piety, bathed in tears and radiant with joy; many masses were said before it, and the Holy Gospel was chanted by Francis, the Levite of Christ.
Then he preached to the people around of the nativity of the poor King; and being unable to utter His name for the tenderness of his love, he called Him the Baby of Bethlehem.
A certain valiant and veracious soldier, Master John, of Grecio, who, for the love of Christ, had left the warfare of this world, and become a dear friend of the holy man,
affirmed that he beheld an infant marvellously beautiful sleeping in that manger, whom the blessed Father Francis embraced with both his arms, as if he would awake Him from sleep.
This vision of the devout soldier is credible, not only by reason of the sanctity of him that saw it but by reason of the miracles which afterwards confirmed its truth.
For the example of Francis, if it be considered by the world, is doubtless sufficient to excite all hearts which are negligent in the faith of Christ;
and the hay of that manger, being preserved by the people, miraculously cured all diseases of cattle, and many other pestilences; God thus in all things glorifying His servant, and witnessing to the great efficacy of his holy prayers by manifest prodigies and miracles.