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Saint Francis is a giant in the history of the Church.
In the Wisdom of
God, he embraced the role of the fool,
and he was triumpant in that role. He called his followers 'jongleurs de
Dieu' - which could reasonably be translated the jesters of God.
G K Chesterton in his book 'St Francis of Assisi' writes:
The conversion of St Francis, like the conversion of St Paul, involved
his being in some sense flung suddenly from a horse; but in a sense it
was an even worse fall; for it was a warhorse. Anyhow there was not a rag
of him left that was not ridiculous. Everybody knew that at best he had
made a fool of himself..... He saw himself as an object, very small and
distinct like a fly walking on a clear window pane; and it was unmistakably
a fool. And as he stared at the word "fool" written in luminous letters
before him, the word itself seemed to shine and change.... When Francis
came forth from his cave of vision, he was wearing the same word "fool"
as a feather in his cap; as a crest or even a crown. He would go on being
a fool: he would become more and more of a fool; he would be the court
fool of the King of Paradise.
and
Many of his acts will seem grotesque and puzzling to a rationalistic
taste. But they were always acts and not explanations; and they always
meant what he meant them to mean.
The call on St Francis life was
Go rebuild my temple
Build with living stones
Build on the faith of the Fathers
Build with Jesus as the cornerstone
His knowing was fully 'person
knowing'. And his words like his acts meant what he wanted them to
mean. When he spoke of brother sun, he meant brother sun. This is not poetic
metaphor, unless metaphor
means something more, and poetry
is more real than science.
The Canticle of Brother Sun
Most high, all powerful good Lord!
All praise is yours, all glory, all honour
And all blessing.
To you alone most High, do they belong.
No mortal lips are worthy to pronounce your name.
All praise be yours my Lord, through all that you have made,
And first my lord Brother Sun
Who brings the day, and light you give to us through him.
How beautiful he is, how radiant in all his splendour!
Of you, most High, he bears the likeness.
All praise be yours my Lord through Sister Moon and Stars,
In the heavens you have made them, bright,
And precious and fair.
All praise be yours my Lord, through Brothers Wind and Air,
And fair and stormy, all the weather's moods,
By which You cherish all that you have made.
All praise be yours my Lord, through Sister Water,
So useful, lowly, precious and pure.
All praise be yours my Lord, through Brother Fire,
Through whom you brighten up the night.
How beautiful he is, how festive! Full of power and strength.
All praise be yours my Lord through Sister Earth, our mother,
Who feeds us in her sovereignty, and produces,
various fruits with coloured flowers and herbs.
All praise be yours my Lord, through those who grant pardon
For love of you, through those who endure Sickness and trial.
Happy those who endure in peace,
By you Most High, they will be crowned.
All praise be yours my Lord through Sister Death,
From whose embrace no mortal can escape.
Woe to those who die in mortal sin!
Happy those she finds doing your will!
The second death can do them no harm.
Praise and bless my Lord, and give Him thanks,
And serve him with great humility
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