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!