When brought before the bishop, Francis would brook no delay…. Without waiting to be spoken to and without speaking he immediately put off and cast aside all his garments and gave them back to his father.
—Thomas Celano, First Life of Francis
The first biography of Francis of Assisi recounts the moment when Francis publicly relinquished his privilege, stripping himself and returning his clothing to his wealthy father in front of the bishop.
The story of Francis stripping himself naked in the bishop’s courtyard conveys to us an essential moment in his conversion process. As Francis stood there naked, completely vulnerable … he divested himself of much more than just his clothes and belongings. In effect, he relinquished family identity and reputation and the security of his economic status.
For Francis, divesting himself from privilege was a gospel-inspired action, one that we are invited to consider today.
Relinquishment as a call and a gift means giving up prestige and privilege, learning to listen and to accept criticism, and learning how to use our power differently and ultimately to share our power. At the very least our task as non-poor is to share the power available to us—our resources of wealth, education, influence, and access—with those who have been denied these things. This is not charity or noblesse oblige. It is a fundamental letting go to allow the very structures that benefit us to be transformed….
The way of relinquishment is the lifelong process of removing the obstacles to loving and just relationships with our neighbors on this earth and of moving toward more genuine community among all of God’s children and indeed among all of earth’s creatures and elements, the kind of sisterhood and brotherhood envisioned by Francis. As we help remove the obstacles to the liberation of others, we are simultaneously removing obstacles to our own liberation….
Francis took the daring leap of faith from a position of privilege into the world of the poor. His renunciation of the world, though radical, was apparently not odious to him. We sense that for Francis the gospel promise was fulfilled, that what one receives in return is far more than what one has given up [see Mark 10: 28–31]. Francis renounced the world only to have it given back with joy….
We find ourselves invited by Francis to be fools. Is it really possible that what is given up will be returned a hundredfold? Can we believe that as we lose ourselves, we will find ourselves? Francis, who renounces his claim on all things, is free to enjoy all things as gift. Utterly foolish. Impractical. Subversive. Even dangerous.
We can neutralize the challenge and promise of Jesus and Francis by elevating [them] into the realm of sainthood and perfection, a realm seemingly far beyond our reach. Or we can ponder their way of living in the world and attempt to follow them, fools though we would be.
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| G.K. Chesterton: Wisdom and Wit |
| Religion is a serious business. It addresses the most fundamental and consequential questions of life and the cosmos. Therefore, it tends to attract serious people who write serious things and who gather to conduct serious meetings. In seminary, a very influential preacher told us that there is no place for humor in the pulpit. Laughter, he said, promotes an atmosphere of triviality rather than revival. This common religious view would have us believe God is a stern headmaster who favors the scholar and scorns the jester. Then I discovered G.K. Chesterton. He was a journalist in England in the early twentieth century, and he wrote over 4,000 essays on some of the most important matters facing modern society, as well as many works of theology and defenses of the Christian faith. His writings were instrumental in C.S. Lewis’ journey from atheism to Christianity. Although he died before World War II, Chesterton also recognized the looming evil of Hitler and was outspoken about the dangers of eugenics—the popular “science” of the time that the Nazis used to justify their goal of racial purity. George Bernard Shaw, who often disagreed with Chesterton, called him “a man of colossal genius.” It wasn’t just his prophetic wisdom that people praised, but also his wit. Throughout his writings, Chesterton had the ability to wrap profound Christian truths in dry English humor. For example, when The London Times invited essays on the topic “What’s Wrong with the World?” Chesterton submitted their shortest entry: Dear Sirs: I am. Sincerely yours, G. K. Chesterton At other times, Chesterton employed his humor to disarm his many critics—a tactic he shared with Jesus. During World War I, for example, Chesterton made fun of his own obesity to disarm an angry woman who confronted him on the street. “Mr. Chesterton, why aren’t you out at the front?” she asked. “Madam,” he replied, “if you go around to the side, you will see that I am.” Chesterton’s humor was no doubt an intrinsic part of his personality, but that doesn’t explain why he unleashed it so frequently. A better explanation comes from his understanding of the world. Chesterton compared it to a cosmic shipwreck. We are like sailors, he said, waking up on the beach with amnesia. As we wander the shore, we discover gold coins, precious cargo, a compass, and other valuable remnants from a civilization we can barely remember. Similarly, we all—whether we are believers or not—are constantly catching glimpses of another world that we’ve long forgotten. Beauty, joy, love, laughter—these things catch us by surprise and stir our hearts with longings that seem entirely inappropriate if the universe is truly indifferent to our existence, as the atheists assert. Reading Chesterton has helped me come to terms with seemingly contradictory aspects of my own personality. I can be serious, but I can also be silly. I’ve discovered that either tack may be used by God to help others catch glimpses of a world long forgotten. DAILY SCRIPTURE GENESIS 18:9-15; 21:1-7 MATTHEW 9:14–17 MATTHEW 23:23–26 WEEKLY PRAYER John Stott (1921 – 2011) Our heavenly Father, we commend to your mercy those for whom life does not spell freedom: prisoners of conscience, the homeless and the handicapped, the sick in body and mind, the elderly who are confined to their homes, those who are enslaved by their passions, and those who are addicted to drugs. Grant that, whatever their outward circumstances, they may find inward freedom, through him who proclaimed release of captives, Jesus Christ our Savior. Amen. |
