On the first Sunday of Lent, the diocese always celebrates the Rite of Election, a ceremony in which those preparing for Baptism at the Easter Vigil come to the Cathedral to be received by the Bishop and given a new designation as the Elect, those who have been chosen by the Church to receive these sacraments.  I am pleased to report that we have five members of the Elect who will be baptized here at the Easter Vigil.  Looking through our parish Book of the Elect which lists the names of those to be baptized each year, the last time we had this number was ten years ago!  This is a great sign of hope for our parish and for the diocese, which has experienced increased numbers over the past two years.  Please keep our Elect in your prayers: Tony, Mike, Reece, Grace, and Ava.

An important part of Lent for these Elect are the three Scrutinies that take place on the 3^rd, 4^th, and 5^th Sundays of Lent.  The Order of Christian Initiation of Adults describes these three Scrutinies in this way:

In order to awaken a desire for purification and redemption by Christ, three Scrutinies take place, both to teach the elect gradually about that mystery of sin from which the whole world and every person longs to be rescued in order to be saved from its present and future consequences, and to fill their spirit with the sense of Christ the Redeemer, who is living water (cf. the Gospel of the Samaritan Woman), light (cf. the Gospel of the Man Born Blind), resurrection and life (cf. the Gospel of the Raising of Lazarus).  From the first to the final Scrutiny, they must grow in the awareness of sin and in the desire for salvation. (OCIA, 143)

Given that the first Scrutiny that takes place this weekend points to Jesus as the Living Water, the invocation that I have chosen for this week is the following:

Heart of Jesus, fountain of life and holiness, have mercy on us.

Throughout the dialog with the Samaritan Woman, Jesus is leading her toward a deeper understanding of what He desires to offer to her, not just physical water that will temporarily satisfy her thirst, but a water that will well up to Eternal Life. (cf. Jn 4:13-14) There is an often-overlooked detail in the account that is worth mentioning.  After Jesus offers this living water to her, she departs and we read: “The woman left her water jar.” (Jn 4:28) St. Thomas Aquinas comments on this detail in the following way:

The water jar is a symbol of worldly desires, by which men draw out pleasures from the depths of darkness—symbolized by the well—i.e., from a worldly manner of life. Accordingly, those who abandon worldly desires for the sake of God leave their water jars (Thomas Aquinas, Commentary on the Gospel of John: Chapters 1–21, trans. Fabian Larcher and James A. Weisheipl, vol. 1 (Washington, DC: The Catholic University of America Press, 2010), 229)

This is what our Elect are being invited to at the Easter Vigil.  As they receive Jesus in the fount of Baptism, they receive a new life in which they are cleansed of their sins, characterized by worldly desires, and they are equipped to live new lives of holiness as they pursue the life of the Gospel and the goods of Eternal Life.

May our Lenten journey also be a time in which we recall our Baptism and the invitation from Christ to continue to turn to His Heart, the fountain of life, to help us in our daily struggle to turn away from worldly desires and recommit to living lives of holiness.

Jesus reigns from his throne in heaven and governs his Church, not in some far-off and distant way, but in a very intimate and loving way. We can speak to him, and he can speak to us, and he does so powerfully and consistently through the scriptures and the writings of the saints. In these sources, we find the voice of God in a clear and trustworthy way. 

Additionally, however, Jesus speaks to us in the silence of prayer, and in the voice of our conscience moving us to actions of love. It is this latter presence of Christ’s voice in quiet prayer that many in our Church today fail to accept. I believe this comes from a profound lack of faith in the present, truly human, and actual life of the risen and ascended Jesus, who is still alive and has been for nearly two-thousand years after his death and resurrection. St. Francis had faith that he served a very much alive Lord, who he could follow and serve just as he could follow and serve an earthly Lord as a knight. 

Before recording the major call of Francis, which he received in the small and broken-down church of San Damiano, which I will reflect on next week, St. Bonaventure writes a short little poem about the source of Francis’ wisdom. In this small poem, we read this brief but meaningful sentence:

“Francis, the servant of the Most High, had no other teacher in these matters except Christ.” 

(Quoted from The Life of St. Francis, Translated by Ewert Cousin) 

What Bonaventure is referring to by “these matters” is St. Francis’ radical life of prayer, fasting, almsgiving, poverty, and desire to live like Christ in the Gospel. Francis listened deeply to the Word of God in the Gospels. It was there that he knew the voice of Christ still lived, and it is there that Francis constantly looked for guidance. He knew also, however, that Jesus could speak to him and teach him in his own heart. Thus, we see that he heard and trusted the voice of Christ in his dream calling him to be a knight, and the voice of Christ in his heart leading him to embrace and kiss the leper. 

Francis believed Jesus was still alive and able to speak to him. 

This sounds so simple, almost too simple even to write down. How many of us, though, at one time or other in our lives, have treated Jesus more as simply a character in a story from the past, more as a historical figure like George Washington or Buddha, than as a currently alive and reigning man (who is God) who wants to have a real relationship with us? He wants us to speak to him and to listen to him.

Admittedly, he speaks differently than the friend sitting next to us. We talk to Jesus in our hearts and he speaks to us there, most often in silence and most often without words (though to some saints, he has even spoken out loud in words their ears can hear). But is this form of silent communication therefore less real? No, not at all. It just requires a form of listening that we have to practice. 

Jesus is alive. He is a moment’s consideration away. He hears our every thought and when we give him our attention, he will give us his. He wants to teach us to do his will. He may not speak in a way we can understand right away, but in time our understanding will grow. Through the intercession of St. Francis, may our faith be strengthened to live with, speak to, learn from, and serve the living Lord Jesus, our high priest and king. Amen!

Similar to the First Sunday of Lent, the Gospel for the Second Sunday of Lent always recounts the story of the Transfiguration.  This was that event in which Jesus took three of His apostles, Peter, James, and John, and “led them up a high mountain by themselves and He was transfigured before them.” (Mt 17:1-2) It is interesting that we have this account in Lent, given that there is a feast day on which this event is celebrated. (August 6).

In a sermon for this feast day, Pope St. Leo the Great gives some explanation of why this event took place, including the following which highlights its fittingness for being included during the Lenten season:

The great reason for this transfiguration was to remove the scandal of the cross from the hearts of his disciples, and to prevent the humiliation of his voluntary suffering from disturbing the faith of those who had witnessed the surpassing glory that lay concealed. (Sermo 51, 3-4. 8: PL 54, 310-311. 313)

One of the key lines from the account of the Transfiguration are the words that were spoken by the Father with a voice coming from the clouds which proclaimed: “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to Him.” (Mt 17:5) Not surprisingly, one of the invocations from the Litany of the Sacred Heart draws upon this scene:

Heart of Jesus, in whom the Father is well pleased, have mercy on us

But this is not the only place where this voice from above proclaims this message.  We also hear it in the account of His baptism in the Jordan River.  After coming up out of the water, the Father says: “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.” (Mt 3:17) This is significant because it shows the unchanging posture of the Father to the Son, no matter the circumstances.  Even as Jesus was hanging on the Cross, we know that the Father continues to be well pleased, a truth that no doubt supported Jesus in His Passion.

On the day of our baptism, we are made adopted sons and daughters of God, and though we do not hear the Father speaking in the same way, we believe that this is His posture toward us, seeing the life of His Son entering into our lives.  The amazing thing to consider is that throughout our lives, because of our identity as these adopted sons and daughters, the Father’s posture of loving us and being well pleased with us never changes.  This is a very helpful truth for us to constantly recall and foster in our hearts, especially when we are experiencing the difficulties of living the Christian life, when it becomes painful to accept the path on which we find ourselves.  In that regard, I would like to conclude our reflection with another line from this sermon from Pope St. Leo the Great:

No one should fear to suffer for the sake of justice; no one should lose confidence in the reward that has been promised. The way to rest is through toil, the way to life is through death. Christ has taken on himself the whole weakness of our lowly human nature. If then we are steadfast in our faith in him and in our love for him, we win the victory that he has won, we receive what he has promised.
When it comes to obeying the commandments or enduring adversity, the words uttered by the Father should always echo in our ears: This is my Son, the beloved, in whom I am well pleased; listen to him. (ibid.)

A leper – a man with a disease that ate away at his skin. A contagious disease. A crippling disease… physically, spiritually, emotionally, socially.

Francis. touched. that. man.

He not only touched that man. He showed him love – he embraced him and kissed him. 

What must have passed through Francis’ heart in the moment before he did this?

Can we imagine? 

Bonaventure writes very simply, “This unforeseen encounter struck [Francis] with horror. But he recalled his resolution to be perfect and remembered that he must first conquer himself if he wanted to become a knight of Christ. He slipped off his horse and ran to kiss the man” (The Life of St. Francis, Translated by Ewert Cousins).

He recalled. He remembered. He acted.

Still, memory alone doesn’t lead to self-denying actions like kissing a leper. Added to the memory of these things – his resolution and that spiritual principle – must have been not simply knowledge of the truth but a burning love. There is no sentimentality in this sort of love. This is not the love of nice feelings. This is the love that is captivated by a remarkably intense desire to belong to the beloved. This love impels the lover to give everything away. It is a love of desire. 

In the realm of holy acts, desire is everything.

What did Francis desire? To be a knight of Christ.

Why did he desire that? Because he loved Christ.

What did that desire lead him to do? To make a “resolution to be perfect.” To hold the words of Christ in his memory: “Be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect,” and “if anyone wishes to follow me, he must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.”

Here, in this moment, on his horse, Francis desired Christ’s life so deeply that he forgot himself, literally. Thoughts of contagion left him. Considerations of social standards left him. He could have said like St. Paul, “It is no longer I who live but Christ who lives in me.”

The choice of love in this moment left a mark on the life of Francis that would never leave – he was willing to do anything for Jesus, his King. The leper disappeared, seemingly literally. Was he the Lord? Or an angel? Bonaventure seems to suggest such.

Regardless, it is clear that Francis was a changed man after this. He yearned deeply for the Lord; he thirsted for Christ, and that thirst was quenched in a vision of the Crucifixion that seared his memory and opened his soul to new realms of self-gift. From then on, he longed for poverty, humility, and charity. He served the poor and the lepers of his community. 

As we enter more deeply into Lent, we can profit from the prayers of St. Francis. We can beg him for a similar grace of a transformation of our heart and soul into a likeness to the crucified Lord. 

Does self-denial grate against our nature? Yes. Yes it does, but it is the path to holiness.

Come Holy Spirit, draw our hearts into the Sacred Heart of our Lord. Set us on fire with the fire of charity that burned in Christ’s heart for others and then in St. Francis’ heart. Lead us out of ourselves to serve you with generous hearts. Amen!

On this First Sunday of Lent, we hear the account of the fall of our first parents, Adam and Eve.  The Catechism of the Catholic Church describes this scene in the following words:

Man, tempted by the devil, let his trust in his Creator die in his heart and, abusing his freedom, disobeyed God’s command. This is what man’s first sin consisted of. All subsequent sin would be disobedience toward God and lack of trust in his goodness. (CCC 397)

Disobedience is at the heart of all sin, therefore when Christ came into the world as one of us, He brings about our reconciliation through obedience, as St. Paul recounts:

Have this mind among yourselves, which was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form he humbled himself and became obedient unto death, even death on a cross. (Phil 2:5–8)

Where Adam and Eve were unsuccessful in remaining obedient to God after succumbing to the temptation of the devil, we see in the Gospel for the First Sunday of Lent Jesus remaining obedient and thus resisting the temptations of Satan.  This incident at the very beginning of His public ministry would define His whole life – obedience to the Father in all things, even to the point of dying on the Cross.  I have therefore chosen the following invocation from the Litany of the Sacred Heart for this week:

Heart of Jesus, obedient to death, have mercy on us

When Jesus taught us how to pray in the Lord’s Prayer, one of the petitions He asks us to pray is: “thy will be done.”  This is a prayer in which we are asking to exercise the virtue of obedience.  We have to fight the constant temptation within ourselves that says: “my will be done.” Again, that is basically what sin boils down to.  We know what we are supposed to do, but we prefer what we want to do, thus obeying our will over the will of God.  That is, of course, in those circumstance when what we want is opposed to God’s will, for what we want to do can certainly be what God wants for us, but we should be obeying first becauseit is His will, not because it is ours and that it just so happens to also conform with His will.

Obedience can be difficult, and choosing to act against our selfish will can be a painful experience.  In those moments, we often turn in on ourselves, becoming preoccupied with the anticipated discomfort.  The better reaction is to turn our gaze toward Christ and learn from His example.  I find the following words from the Letter to the Hebrews helpful to recall when obedience can be challenging:

Consider Him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted. In your struggle against sin you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood (Heb 12:3–4)

These words, strong though they may seem, are not meant to discourage us, but rather to encourage us to find in the Heart of Jesus the strength to resist temptation and remain obedient to the Father, just as He was, even to the point of dying on the Cross.

When St. Francis was a young man, he loved God and wanted to serve him. He naturally desired to help the poor, and it was well known that he was generous with his money and time toward them – and all this even before he was called to leave everything and follow Jesus. At this time in his life, God began to reveal to him bit by bit something about the way that he would eventually call Francis to follow him.

St. Bonaventure recounts the story of a dream that Francis had, a dream which offers us even today a great deal of food for thought. After performing a great act of charity toward a poor man, Francis goes to sleep the next night and sees a vision in this dream. “God in his goodness,” St. Bonaventure writes, “showed [Francis] a large and splendid palace full of military weapons emblazoned with the insignia of Christ’s cross. … when Francis asked to whom these belonged, he received an answer from heaven that all these things were for him and his knights. When he awoke in the morning, he judged the strange vision to be an indication that he would have great prosperity…” (The Life of St. Francis, Translated by Ewert Cousins).

To those of us who know the rest of the story, this judgment sounds strange, but Francis did not know at this time about God’s call to poverty. He thought he would become a great knight for his city and country and lead others. What we know now is that God meant that Francis would be a knight in a more heavenly army and lead many others to serve God with the weapons of poverty, chastity, and obedience in a very radical way.

As Francis goes along after this dream, “still ignorant of God’s plan, he decided to join a certain count of Apulia, hoping in his service to obtain the glory of knighthood.” In Francis’ mind, this would be the greatest honor – to serve God by faithfully serving a good man. Still, this was not to be. While he was on his way to serve that man, the Lord broke through to Francis and began to reveal to him more deeply his vocational call.

This time, the message from the Lord was much clearer. St. Bonaventure records the Lord say, “‘Francis, who can do more for you, a lord or a servant, a rich man or a poor man?’ When Francis replied that a lord and a rich man could do more, he was at once asked: ‘Why, then, are you abandoning the Lord for a servant and the rich God for a poor man?’” In these beautiful words, we begin to see how Jesus was transforming the imagination of his beloved son, Francis. Francis thought he was going to serve a rich man, but God is richer. He thought he was going to serve a “lord,” but compared to The Lord of heaven, that man was only a servant. 

God becomes, for Francis, the Master of all masters, the Lord of all lords, the King of all kings, to be served above all others. The Lord then calls Francis to return to Assisi rather than go on to Apulia, and “he returned in haste to Assisi, joyous and free of care….” We see the effect of this word from the Lord. It brings him lightness, peace, and joy – some clear signs that it is from the Lord. 

St. Francis learned early on in his life that Jesus, his high priest and king, would love him and honor him far more greatly than any human person on earth. He learned early on that no human and earthly honors could compare with divine and heavenly honors. May our minds and imaginations might be formed similarly. May we serve with joy and gladness the greatest Master, the one who loves us, the crucified King, risen from the dead. St. Francis, pray for us! Amen.

In just a few days, we will enter the holy season of Lent.  Many of us approach Lent with an eager spirit, seen especially by the huge turnout we get at our masses for Ash Wednesday.  One would think it is a Holy Day of Obligation (which it is not).  I do not think that is the reason why most people come, though.  We have an awareness deep down that we need Lent.  We approach Lent with a recognition that there are things in our lives where we do not have peace.  It might be our relationship with another person, our relationship with ourselves, our relationship with different attachments or bad habits, and at the root of it all, our relationship with the Lord.  Therefore, I think we can see Lent as a time where, through the practices of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, we have an opportunity to experience reconciliation in those various relationships and so recover the peace that our hearts desire.  With that in mind, I have chosen the following invocation from the Litany of the Sacred Heart for our focus this week, and in some ways, for the upcoming season of Lent:

Heart of Jesus, our peace and our reconciliation, have mercy on us

In the Gospel for this Sunday, we continue to hear from the Sermon on the Mount where Jesus offers a more thorough teaching on some of the Ten Commandments.  A casual reading of the Decalogue (another name for the Ten Commandments) seems to suggest a list made mainly up of things we should not do.  However, as the Catechism of the Catholic Church explains, they “point out the conditions of a life freed from the slavery of sin. The Decalogue is a path of life.” (CCC 2057) They are a path of life because they are all ordered toward something very positive: love, for all of the commandments are summed up as ways in which we love God and our neighbor.  When we fail to live that law of love, we experience division which deprives us of peace.  Living according to the commandments reverses that.  

Perhaps as we prepare for Lent and what practices we want to undertake, spend some time over the next few days thinking about the relationships I mentioned above.  Where are we not experiencing peace?  Ask the Lord to use whatever your Lenten practices are to be at the service of bringing reconciliation through the Heart of Jesus to those relationships and thus restore peace in your life.  

Our Lenten journey is leading us to Easter Sunday, but it must go through Good Friday.  On that day, Jesus died on the Cross which makes our reconciliation with God possible, articulated well by St. Paul:

God shows his love for us in that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us.  Since, therefore, we are now justified by his blood, much more shall we be saved by him from the wrath of God. For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life. Not only so, but we also rejoice in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received our reconciliation. (Rom 5:8–11)

The life of St. Francis of Assisi… how might one describe it? It is at the same time a life of gravity and a life of lightness. It is a life of a powerful and influential man but a man powerful only in his extreme weakness. It is a life lived at a particular point in time, but a life affecting all time afterward. It is a life of joy but also of suffering. Francis gave his life to the Lord and Jesus gave it back to him as an adventure to the cross. 

In many ways St. Francis is one of the greatest saints who ever lived, to the point of being called an alter Christus – another Christ. He desired in the depth of his being to live the Gospel call of Jesus Christ – the call to poverty, chastity, and obedience. He served the poor, spoke with the rich and powerful, and brought about great reform in the Church through his holiness.

After his death, the order he founded was looking for someone to write his biography and the choice fell to St. Bonaventure. St. Bonaventure took up this task and went on to do research into the life of St. Francis, visiting the places he had been throughout his life. He then wrote a biography that remains a trustworthy source for us today on the life of St. Francis. 

This biography is not arranged in perfectly chronological order like most biographies are arranged today. Instead, St. Bonaventure wrote about St. Francis’ life using a set of different themes which are somewhat arranged in the order of activities in the life of Francis. In this way, St. Bonaventure opens up the heart of St. Francis and demonstrates the ways in which St. Francis takes on the life of Christ. 

As we move forward into this year of St. Francis, I am going to reflect upon one chapter at a time in these bulletin articles. It may take only 15 weeks (the number of chapter), but it may also take more, in case a chapter or two needs more articles to fully enjoy it.

As a prologue to the article series, I reflect briefly on the introduction to the Biography:

I want to lift up an image that St. Bonaventure uses very indirectly to describe the life of St. Francis. 

“This, then,” St. Bonaventure writes, “is my principal reason for undertaking this task, that I may gather together the accounts of his virtues, his actions and his words – like so many fragments, partly forgotten and partly scattered – although I cannot accomplish this fully, so that they may not be lost (John 6:12) when those who lived with this servant of God die.”

In this sentence, St. Bonaventure sets up a comparison between the memories of the life of the man Francis and the leftover fragments of bread and fish in the Gospel account of the multiplication of loaves. I find this fascinating and beautiful! The idea is this – St. Francis put his little self in the hands of God. God brought about a great multiplication of virtue and experiences in the life of Francis that blessed the Church and was truly nutritious food for the Church. After the death of the holy man, it is the job then of St. Bonaventure to collect those fragments left over so that none of it is lost. 

I think this is an amazing way to consider a holy life. Would that all of our lives could end with good and holy “fragments left over” in the minds of all our loved ones and in so many others in the world we don’t even know. May the Lord bless and increase our efforts at sanctity. May he help us surrender what little we have into his hands so that he can bring about a great harvest in the world!

For this week’s invocation from the Litany of the Sacred Heart, I have chosen to jump almost to the very end of the litany.  The invocation for our reflection is as follows:

Heart of Jesus, hope of those who die in You, have mercy on us

There is a very particular reason I chose this invitation.  You see, as I am sitting down to write this article, it is a Saturday afternoon, and earlier today, I celebrated a funeral Mass for an infant from our parish who died just under twelve hours after being born.  The death was expected, as the parents were aware of the diagnosis for several months leading up to the birth.  Though that does not take away the sadness of the situation, it at least helped with having some time to process what would likely happen.

There are various words that could have been used to describe the atmosphere as we gathered for the funeral, words such as “heart-breaking”, “sorrowful”, “tragic”, “unfortunate”, just to name a few.  But the word that I kept coming back to was quite different.  That word was “hope.”  Perhaps my spending an entire year writing on the topic of hope last year had me predisposed to this theme, but I think it was more than that.  The reason that hope rose above every other feeling was because of something that took place after the infant was born, but before it died.  The infant was baptized and confirmed, and in doing so, was made an adopted child of God through Jesus Christ and given the promise of inheriting eternal life.  The prayers for the Funeral Mass for a Baptized Infant express this hope in such a beautiful way, and the Church is never more certain about the salvation of a soul than with an infant who dies shortly after being baptized.  The opening Collect reads (with the key phrase in bold):

Most compassionate God,
who in the counsels of your wisdom
have called this little child to yourself
on the very threshold of life,
listen kindly to our prayers
and grant that one day we may inherit eternal life with him (her),
whom, by the grace of Baptism, you have adopted as your own child
and who we believe is dwelling even now in your Kingdom.
Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,
who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
God, for ever and ever.

The sting of such a sad loss is certainly lessened by this beautiful belief that this infant is at rest in Heaven.  It also provides a helpful reminder to all of us who are still on our pilgrimage of life, that we too have good reason to hope that because of our baptism, if we die in the Lord, we also believe that we will rise though Him to eternal life. In his Letter to the Romans, St. Paul reminds us: “We know that Christ, raised from the dead, dies no more; death no longer has power over Him” (Rom 6:9), and when we die in the Lord, neither does death have power over us.

Is there ever really an “ordinary” year in the Church’s life? Maybe, but this year isn’t one of them! About a month ago, the Jubilee year of Hope ended with the conclusion of 2025, and here in the Cathedral the Bishop celebrated a closing ceremony at the 10:00 AM Mass, after which the Jubilee cross was removed from the sanctuary and the opportunity to receive the Jubilee indulgence in the Cathedral ended. 

Right on the heels of this “end,” however, the Holy Father, pope Leo XIV announced a “beginning,” not another Jubilee year, but a specially dedicated year nonetheless. The year 2026 will be celebrated in honor of the eight-hundred year anniversary of the passing of St. Francis from this earthly life to his eternal life. Here are some of the words of the Vatican office which announced the special year:

“His Holiness Pope Leo XIV, Minister of our faith and our joy, establishes that, from 10 January 2026, coinciding with the closing of the Ordinary Jubilee, until 10 January 2027, a special Year of Saint Francis shall be proclaimed, in which every faithful Christian, following the example of the Saint of Assisi, shall become a model of holiness of life and a constant witness of peace.”

The Holy Father grants also, in a similar fashion to the Jubilee year, plentiful opportunities for indulgences. I’ve modified this text a bit to make it more readable, but it is taken directly from the document announcing the Year of St. Francis: 

“the Apostolic Penitentiary … grants a plenary indulgence under the usual conditions (sacramental confession, Eucharistic communion and prayer according to the intentions of the Holy Father), also applicable in the form of suffrage for the souls in Purgatory:

[to all] who, with a heart detached from sin, participate in the Year of Saint Francis by 

1. Visiting, in the form of a pilgrimage, any Franciscan conventual church or place of worship anywhere in the world dedicated to Saint Francis or connected to him for any reason, and there:
2. Devoutly follow the Jubilee rites or spend at least a reasonable period of time in pious meditation and raise prayers to God so that, following the example of Saint Francis, feelings of Christian charity towards their neighbours and authentic vows of harmony and peace among peoples may spring forth in their hearts, 
3. Concluding with the Our Father, the Creed and invocations to the Blessed Virgin Mary, Saint Francis of Assisi, Saint Clare and all the Saints of the Franciscan Family.

As far as I can tell, the closest Franciscan Church to us here in Springfield is at Corpus Christi Priory near Riverton. This year is a perfect opportunity to visit this beautiful Church to pray for the intercession of St. Francis and to obtain a plenary indulgence.  This year is going to be a year of a great outpouring of grace upon the Church through the intercession of the great St. Francis of Assisi. He is one of my favorite saints and I am excited to celebrate this year. Part of my celebration will be to begin writing a series of articles here considering the life of St. Francis, his example, and his encouragement for the Church to grow in holiness. May God bless us all through his prayers! Amen.