Oct 4 2019 Psalm 121 Feast of St. Francis

I lift up my eyes to the hills; from where is my help to come?

Francis was born into a wealthy merchant family, and he lived an entitled wealthy life until he had a conversion experience. He was in a local church and believed he heard Christ saying to him, “Francis, my house is falling down”. Taking the words literally, he sold a bale of his father’s expensive silk to pay for the repairs. His father was outraged, and by some accounts Francis was disowned and left his father’s life and riches with absolutely nothing, leaving the clothes on his back and walking away naked.

At that point, he ‘wedded himself to lady poverty’, and devoted himself to serve the poor and sick, especially those with leprosy. He begged for food and money for work and tools for repairs. He seemed to be visibly and ultimately in love with ‘lady poverty, realizing that all he needed was God’s love, nothing else. His faith was deep and simple, and he was somehow able to physically strip away all of the stuff we fill our lives with, stuff that seems to get in the way.

 

Eventually he gathered followers who wanted to live equally simple, and resolutely focused on God’s pure love, and the order of Franciscans was founded.

As someone who’s spent an increasing amount of time thinking about and being steeped in my faith, I have always had a warm spot for Franciscans. Their vows of simplicity and poverty, and prayer always seem like something I’d like to do. A saying attributed to Francis captures my incarnational way of seeing my life –

Preach the Gospel at all times. When necessary, use words. Even if he didn’t say it, I like it.

With all that’s going on in my world, it’s easy to think that I’m too busy for more prayer. More study. More simplicity. But if I look back at the Psalm, it’s simple. I lift up my eyes, and see where my help comes from. That’s it. 

Is there a way to find space in my life solely by lifting my eyes? I don’t think it’s complicated, or at least it doesn’t need to be. This morning, I’m thinking about the gift that the Franciscans give us, about how to live in this busy world in a devoted and intentional way. I’m wondering about how I might take steps towards that focus, shedding parts of my life that fill space, but not necessarily with good things. Evening TV. Social Media. Fiction reading. Who knows? But I would like to critically look at my days and look at what the Franciscans suggest, and maybe introduce something new, or remove something old. Hmm .