FST Board of Regents San Diego CA February 25, 2021

“From to San Diego: What Makes An Organization Franciscan?” Br. Bill Short, OFM

“Always be ready to give an account of the hope that is within you with gentleness and respect” (1Pt 3:15).

To give an account … this is what brings us here today. We have an experience – in the 1st letter of St. Peter it is hope, we may have a different name for it – and we want to be able to give an account of it, we might say, to explain it to others.

In our case the experience we have is that of serving on the Board of Regents of the Franciscan School. We call this school “Franciscan.” But that is more than just a name to identify it: it is also a shorthand description of some aspects of the experience itself.

We know that FST, like other Franciscan organizations and ministries, functions differently: it doesn’t always operate by the rules that are most familiar to other people, even people working in the same field of graduate education, providing similar programs and classes, or located in the same area of Southern California. We are here today to try to “account” for these differences, to look for some of the characteristics that mark an organization as Franciscan. My hope is that this explanation will help Board members, old and new, to understand better the "institutional culture" of FST and, more broadly, the Franciscan ministries of St. Barbara Province.

New York City

Let me begin with a contrast. I was once invited to attend a meeting in a suite of professional offices across from the UN building in New York, at 1 Dag Hammarskjold Plaza. Before going there I was informed how to get there, how I should identify myself, and where to go when I entered the building. Once I arrived in the lobby of the building, my name was checked against a master list of people expected that day, then I was issued an identification card, and was escorted to a rank of elevators. Security personnel, while polite, were clearly observing me.

On reaching the floor indicated to me, I approached a very large counter: rosewood up to my chest, and through a glass partition gave my name and my ID card to a receptionist, who then buzzed me through a set of locked glass doors.

Once inside, I was taken by another person to a conference room where the meeting was to be held; and was politely offered coffee, served on a beautiful conference table. The people I was meeting came in, and were very friendly, and we conducted our business in a brisk and efficient way. At the end, they thanked me for coming, and then asked one of the assistants to show me back out through the front to the elevators, and they disappeared through another door.

The whole operation was very well organized. Everything worked on a very precise schedule. Everyone who needed to know was aware of who I was, when I was coming, and where I should go for my meeting. The whole thing worked like clockwork, and not a minute of my time or that of my hosts was wasted.

People behind the scenes had clearly prepared the schedules, sent me directions, written my name correctly on the ID card, fixed the coffee, polished the conference table, and made photocopies of all the paperwork used in the meeting. I was treated courteously and respectfully by each person along the way as soon as they realized that I was an expected visitor, with my ID badge identifying me as someone who was “expected.” It exemplified professional behavior and "efficiency of operation." These are values with a high value generally in our U.S. society today.

The Cemetery San Miguel CA

Now a different story, from a day in the not-too-distant past at my former home at Old Mission San Miguel in Central California. I was sitting in the office working on the translation of an Italian article about St. . The intercom buzzed, and I received a message from one of the staff in our Gift Shop. A woman (I’ll call her Cindy) had just called from hundreds of miles away, rather distraught, looking for her husband whom she had not seen for more than a day. Was he sitting on a tombstone in the Old Mission’s Cemetery? That seemed to be what he said in a message on her cell phone. Would I please go and look, and if he was there, would I please keep him there until she could come and get him? (To put it mildly, I got the distinct impression that something unusual was going on.)

I went out the Cemetery and, in fact, found a man fitting the description of the husband, sitting on one of the tombs. I approached him (let’s call him Mike); I introduced myself and asked if he was Mike. He said Yes, and that God had told him to come to the cemetery at the Old Mission in San Miguel. Would I please tell his wife to come join him, with their children and family dog? I convinced him to come and sit in one of our guest rooms, maybe rest for a while, and I would inform his wife that she should come, with or without children and dog.

Cindy was relieved when I called, and said she would fly to the nearest airport, a snall one in San Luis Obispo, about an hour’s drive away, as soon as she was off work, but could she find a way to get to the Mission from the airport? I promised we would find a way. Our local Franciscan community there was the novitiate, where young men spend their first year trying out Franciscan life. Two of the young novices agreed to drive an hour or so to pick up Cindy at the San Luis airport, while I did my best to keep Mike occupied. He was upset and worried, he told me, because he was being pursued by enemies inspired by the devil, and they were conspiring to kill him, his wife and children and the dog -- but he knew that as long as he stayed inside the Mission compound with the friars he was safe. I encouraged him to look at things that way for the next 6 or 7 hours, so he wouldn’t disappear before his wife Cindy arrived.

She, with the novices, arrived after 10PM that night, and we spent the next few hours trying to piece together what had happened. Luckily, she had brought some medication that Mike needed to take, and by 1 AM I was able to leave them to get some sleep. They left early the next morning, and since then we have kept in touch: Mike is feeling much better, Cindy is relieved that he is well again, and they sent us a lovely bottle of wine, and a gift-box of cheese for Easter, along with a donation for the Mission, as a sign of their gratitude.

Mike and Cindy were not expected. They had no ID. There was no time to prepare for this meeting; many of our schedules for the day were turned upside-down. I had no opportunity to make notes beforehand, nor to consult with experts on Mike’s condition, or suggest what Cindy should do. They simply fell out of the sky (almost literally) into the middle of a Franciscan place, and everyone seemed to know, more or less, what to do, what to say, how to react. The staff in the Gift Shop, the friars in the community, the novices heading out at night to pick up a complete stranger at a faraway airport – all did their part without asking many questions. No one refused this unexpected plea for help, and afterward, no one complained about the multiple inconveniences, and seemed genuinely happy when they found out that Mike and Cindy were back home and doing well. We might say that they were able to "focus on the person" more than on the "efficiency of the operation." I believe this is one of the characteristic traits of a Franciscan institution, whether FST or any of the ministries of St. Barbara Province. The person has an intrinsic value, quite apart from any usefulness or effectiveness they might offer, any function they may perform for us.

How do we “give an account” of that? That is, how can we describe the differences between these two very different kinds of meetings? I hope that through our shared reflection today we can give some response to that question.

All of us who have served on the staff or Boards of Franciscan institutions have been (or will be) tutored on how these things work. We receive copies of Bylaws, Handbooks, and explanations of governance and sponsorship models. A good administrator knows the value of these tools, but a good Franciscan administrator also knows that these by themselves are just the skeleton, not the flesh and blood of our Franciscan ministries. Their animating spirit, their “soul,” is something that can never be captured in Board Minutes, resolutions, or strategic plans. Yet this spirit is what makes our Franciscan ministries “Franciscan.”

I would like to offer my own explanation, my own account of what animates us. My hope is that these remarks will help you to reflect on your own experience, to see if this rings true. Together, then, we can embark on this process of “giving an account” of the Franciscan hope that is in us, and that we can sense or see or almost touch in the ordinary and extraordinary events in our diverse Franciscan ministries.

I have selected the following themes to help describe this “indescribable something.”

1. “Focus on the person” over “efficiency of operation” 2. “Generosity with gifts” over “ownership of earnings” 3. “Washing feet” over “reserved seats” 4. Cortesia to people “along the way” 5. Joy, cheerfulness, the “smiling countenance”

1. “Focus on the person” over “concern with the product”

“Consider, O human being, in what great excellence the Lord placed you: he created and formed you to the image of his beloved Son according to the body, and to His likeness according to the spirit.”1

This saying, from Francis’s Admonitions (his pithy sayings that the friars recorded) points the great dignity of every human being as a living “icon” of Christ, the image of God. The point of the saying is illustrated by a story told by the friar who first wrote about Francis’s life, his younger contemporary :

He was deeply troubled whenever he saw one of the poor insulted or heard a curse hurled at any creature. It happened that a certain brother insulted a poor man begging alms, saying: “Are you sure that you are not really rich and just pretending to be poor?” When Saint Francis, the father of the poor, heard this, he was deeply hurt and he severely rebuked the brother who had said these things. Then he ordered the brother to strip naked in front of the poor man and to kiss his feet, to beg his forgiveness. He used to say: “Anyone who curses the poor insults Christ whose noble banner the poor carry, since Christ made himself poor for us

1 Admonition V, in : Early Documents (FA:ED) I, (New City Press: New York, London, Manila: 1999) p. 131. in this world.” That is also why, when he met poor people burdened with wood or other heavy loads, he would offer his own weak shoulders to help them.2

Focus on the Person

The human person is the living icon or image of Jesus, the beloved Son of God. Just as we approach the images of Jesus with loving reverence, touching them, kissing them (as in the veneration of cross on Good Friday), so we approach those whom the Lord sends to us.

Another story, from the Life of Francis, written some thirty years later by the great Franciscan theologian, St. Bonaventure, gives an example of this great reverence, even for a person who was not very attractive:

There was a man in the neighborhood of Spoleto whose mouth and cheek were being eaten away by a certain horrible disease. He could not be helped by any medical treatment and went on a pilgrimage to implore the intercession of the holy apostles [i.e., at the shrines of Sts. Peter and Paul in Rome]. On his way back from visiting their shrines he happened to meet God’s servant. When out of devotion he wanted to kiss his footprints, that humble man, refusing to allow it, kissed the mouth of the one who wished to kiss his feet. In his remarkable piety Francis, the servant of lepers, touched that horrible sore with his holy mouth …3

Here we touch on the “personal” touch typical of our ministries, illustrated by that typical Franciscan gesture, the kiss. The highest value is the person, worthy of these signs of affectionate devotion simply because of being a person, not because of being attractive or pleasant, productive or profitable. In the long run, it is always people who count, not the other things in the paperwork, in the organization, the meetings, the funding. It is always about people.

This “personal touch” helps to explain why we work best with institutions of a certain size. Once we move beyond what is comfortable for person-to-person communication, we begin to lose some of our “spirit.” We have come to know what the right size is, by trial and error. And for this reason many Franciscan ministries have used a policy of limited growth in almost every aspect of our ministries. Our need for face-to-face, direct personal contact helps to account for that institutional policy in our ministries.

The needs of the people are infinite: what is ours to do is finite. We are not responsible for saving the world – that is God’s job. Our task is to do what we do, with the gifts we receive, in

2 Thomas of Celano, The Life of Saint Francis 76, in FA:ED I, p. 248. 3 The Major Legend of Saint Francis 6, in FA:ED II, (New York: 2000), p. 540. the way that works best. And for us that usually means institutions of a limited size, in terms of staff, in terms of programs offered, in terms of funding needed or used.

2. “Generosity with gifts” over “ownership of earnings”

“Let us refer all good to the Lord God Almighty and Most High, acknowledge that every good is his and thank Him, from Whom all good comes, for everything.”4

This exhortation from Francis expresses his profound insight that everything is a gift. We live as images of God when we recognize that everything is God’s, not ours: this includes our own lives, and what we have been given (talents, health, money, intelligence, family, friends, work). All really belongs to God – and our task is to thank God for the gifts we have, and show that thanks by distributing them generously to others. In this way we act out who we really are: we are like God when we share what we have been given.

Raking Leaves in Oregon

Many years ago, I spent my first three years of high school at St. Francis Seminary out in the woods above the tiny town of Troutdale, Oregon. There my job every Friday afternoon after class was to clean the rector's office. His name was Fr. Kevin, and he was also our Latin teacher. A very likeable and friendly friar. One day as I was cleaning, an elderly man walked up the road toward his office and Fr. Kevin went out to see what he wanted. I could see through the window that Fr. Kevin was pointing to the walkway outside the office, covered with abundant Fall leaves, and the man soon had a rake and made some motions of moving the leaves off the walkway. Shortly afterward Fr. Kevin went out and handed him something and off he went. When he reentered the office, the rector told me, "Bill, the friars criticize me for giving five bucks to people who come here asking. They say we don't have enough to pay the bills here right now, and that old men like that are probably just going to spend it on drink. Maybe he will, I don't know. But I do know one thing: if I keep giving away what we receive, we always receive more in return. And when we stop giving to others, people stop giving to us."

Ownership of earnings

I took this in, even though it didn't seem very logical to me (my dad was an accountant). A week later, on Friday afternoon, I was back to cleaning Fr. Kevin's office. He was looking worried, sitting at his desk, as he opened the bills that had arrived with the mail. And then his face lit up, and he held up a check, and announced with great satisfaction: "Remember what I told you, Bill? Look, here's a check for 500 dollars! That's a hundred times what I gave to that poor old guy last week. People are generous!"

4 Francis of Assisi, Earlier Rule XVII, in FA:ED I, p. 76

Generosity with gifts

Looking back now, I can see that I had an attitude based on earning your wages at honest labor, and then owning those earnings, to be saved if possible, or spent in the most thrifty way possible. My folks had five children in Catholic schools and one paycheck from my dad's accounting job. Fr. Kevin seemed to operate by a different set of financial norms: when you are broke, give away what little you have! Generosity with gifts took precedence over claiming ownership of earnings.

3. “Washing feet” over “reserved seats”

“Let those who are placed over others boast about that position as much as they would if they were assigned the duty of washing the feet of their brothers. And if they are more upset at having their place over others taken away from them than at losing their position at their feet, the more they store up a money bag to the peril of their soul.”5

Reserved Seats

We do not cling to “reserved seats” at the Lord’s right and left. This was a favor that the mother of James and John asked the Lord to grant, and He politely declined. And on the night before he died, he removed his cloak, tied a towel around his waist and, taking a basin, began to wash the feet of his disciples. Washing feet took priority over assigning reserved seats at the Last Supper! Here is the great revelation of the divinity of Christ: not in a Steven Spielberg “Raiders of the Lost Ark” scene, full of special effects and dazzling lasers. This is not our usual way of picturing who God is: it looks much more like the work of a hospital attendant, or a mother or father caring for a dirty child, or – a modern-day analogy – the men and women at the car-wash.

This picture of “the humility of God” is one we enact, we play out, when we put aside high status, rank and power to “lower ourselves” and thus reveal our own likeness to God.

Allow me a rather humorous, person story here. For several years in the 1980s I helped in secretarial duties in Rome for the international head of our Order, the Minister General, the late Fr. John Vaughn (who had earlier been one of my first teachers when I was a young novice). He had gone up to Venice with one the Italian friars as his trusty driver, and was returning to Rome when the two of them got stuck in a snowstorm near Bologna late at night. Fr. Cristoforo, a truck-driver before becoming a friar, told Fr. John in no uncertain terms that it was dangerous to continue on to Rome in those snowy conditions, and they should seek lodging for the night with the friars, who had a house in downtown Bologna. They drove to the house in the snowy night,

5 Admonition IV, in FA:ED I, p. 130. and stood on the sidewalk, ringing the door-bell about 10 PM, dressed only in inadequate dark pants and second-hand sport shirts. They waited a long time until a rather grumpy friar came to open the door: “Who are you?” Fr. Cris replied “We are two friars from Rome who got stuck in the snowstorm and we need to spend the night.” With some hesitation the friar let them in, and showed them to the dining room, saying, “I suppose you want to eat something.” They mildly said “Yes.” He then informed them, “I think I should buzz the superior.” (Obviously they looked pretty suspicious!) Fr. Cris was ready to tell them all that the man next to him was the international superior of the Order, but Fr. John told him to keep quiet and see what would happen. The superior arrived, with a wary look, and began to ask them, “What do you do in Rome” Fr. John answered simply, “Oh, we do administrative work at the General Curia of the Order.” “Hmm,” said the superior, “I suppose you can stay for the night.” At about that moment, the friar preparing food arrived with some fried eggs and toast. As he walked into the dining room and plopped down the plates in front on these two vagabonds, he happened to notice a photograph on the wall of the dining room, next to the picture of the Pope and the local bishop, the photo of the recently-elected American Minister General of the Franciscan Order, Fr. John Vaughn. Gesturing wildly to the superior, he pointed to the picture and to the man about to eat the fried eggs – Oh, My! It's Father General! The poor eggs were immediately whisked away, they both fell on their knees and kissed the right hand of Fr. John (an Italian custom when people meet the successor of St. Francis) and began to ring the bell in the hall to wake up the whole community. They had a special guest! Oh, no – they were going to cook some fresh pasta, and bring out the best wine, and maybe they had a few juicy Florentine steaks in the fridge that they could throw onto the grill. In a few minutes, a group of half-asleep and confused friars were charging around the dining room, spreading table-cloths, kissing hands, bowing, and putting out the good Sunday china. What Fr. Chris and Fr. John, however, remembered best is that they were received charitably, and offered some solid toast and eggs, even before anyone realized that they had a “big shot” as a surprise guest. It was the early moments of the encounter, before anyone realized who they were, that showed that they would have been treated at least with common Christian and Franciscan charity even if they looked a little bit like escaped bank robbers. We might that here "washing feet" as a sign of service was substitute by "cooking eggs" and that there were no "reserved seats" (at least until they recognized Fr. John and then made him sit at the head of the table). The person who is served and the person in charge of the organization are to be treated with equally great dignity and respect. It is the person, inherently an image of God, who commands the highest respect. It is not the office or job description that gives the person a right to be respected. Low-key, informal, first-name relationships are common in our ministries. Sometimes this makes it confusing for people who want a clearer picture of who is in charge and who is being served here. Franciscan women and men themselves are often indistinguishable outwardly, according to rank and title and job. This is based on an idea of great, fundamental equality: we are all sisters and brothers to each other, and consider others our brothers and sisters. St. Francis expressed this well in his Canticle of Creatures, in which he went far beyond the human race to include every creature under heaven, from fire and water to grass and flowers in the same loving family: each was brother or sister to him.

4. Cortesia among people “along the way”

“They must rejoice when they live among people considered of little value and looked down upon, among the poor and powerless, the sick and lepers and the beggars by the wayside.”6

Cortesia (in Italian) or curialitas (in Latin) was a richly nuanced term in the time of Francis. It implies that one has the manners one would expect at “court” – it is courtliness. Here is something noble, aristocratic: the code of behavior of knights in shining armor and fair damsels presiding at jousting tournaments. Yet it is, according to Francis, one of God’s characteristics. God is so “courteous,” that He makes the sun shine on the just and the unjust, and sends the rain for sinners and the righteous. True courtesy is shown in the elegant gesture of Francis, who takes the hand of a person suffering from Hansen’s disease (leprosy) and kisses it: the sign of respect and honor shown by a lowly peasant toward a great lord or lady.

Such “cortesia” was even extended to people whom we would consider very unworthy of good treatment:

At one time robbers used to come sometimes to the hermitage of the brothers above Borgo San Sepolcro to ask the brothers for bread. They hid in the thick forest of that region, coming out from time to time to rob travelers on the streets and footpaths. Some of the brothers of that place said: ‘It is not right to give them alms because they are robbers and they do many very great evil things to people.’ Others, taking into consideration that they begged humbly and were compelled by great necessity, used to give them alms sometimes, always admonishing them to be converted to penance. Meanwhile blessed Francis arrived at that place. The brothers asked him whether they should give them bread, or not. ‘If you do as I tell you,’ blessed Francis told them, ‘I trust in the Lord that you will win their souls. Got get some good bread and good wine and take it to them in the woods where you know they are staying, and cry out: “Come, Brother Robbers, come to us, because we are brothers and we are bringing you some good bread and good wine.” They will come immediately to you. Then you spread out a tablecloth on the ground, placing the bread and wine on it, and, while they are eating, humbly and joyfully wait on them. After the meal, speak to them some words of the Lord.”7

6 Earlier Rule IX:2, in FA:ED I, p. 70. 7 Assisi Compilation 115, in FA:ED II, pp. 221-222. As the story continues, the friars serve the robbers several times, each time inviting them to change their ways. And the story has a happy ending: they give up a life of crime, start hauling wood for the friars, and a couple even join the Order!

In the varied Franciscan sponsored or affiliated ministries, we may have noticed some of these characteristics. I know I have: here are some examples, and I hope these will only serve to get you thinking about more.

At FST when were still in Berkeley, over many years, the different Presidents of the school could frequently be found late at night washing dishes after a dinner for students, or ironing the tablecloths to be used for their graduation party, or serving as wine-steward at the meal: showing honor for their students, while carrying out tasks that would usually be considered menial.

One of my confreres, the late Fr. Alfred Boedekker, the founder of St. Anthony’s Foundation, “San Francisco’s favorite charity,” felt very much at home in the company of the wealthy aristocrats of San Francisco society, showing them gracious courtesy and hospitality when they would come to visit the dining room for the poor he founded in the city’s rough, downtown Tenderloin District. The wealthy and the powerful were frequently charmed by Fr. Alfred’s ‘cortesia,” his large, warm hand patting theirs, his keen interest in their stories, their families. And on the same day, the same man was out on Golden Gate Avenue, a no-man’s land in San Francisco, in the fog and the wind, with the same large, warm hand, now resting on the arm of a homeless man waiting in line for a hot lunch at St. Anthony’s Dining Room, as Alfred listened, with the same interest, to his story, the worries about his family, extending gracious courtesy and hospitality to this other guest. You, undoubtedly, have your own, similar stories about the importance of gracious respect, cortesia, so important to Francis, whether in your families, among friends or at work.

Another example from the life of Francis shows the charming way in which the Poverello himself made people feel at home, even while receiving quite unexpected assistance. When Francis was receiving medical treatment (unsuccessfully) for a serious eye disease, (we cannot identify it precisely, but it caused copious weeping) the doctor who was treating him in the town of Rieti told him about a woman, another of his patients, who was so poor that the doctor “for the love of God” was paying all her expenses.

When blessed Francis heard this, moved by piety for her, he called on of the companions, who was his guardian, and said to him: ‘Brother Guardian, we have to give back what belongs to someone else.’ ‘And what is that, brother?’ he said. ‘That mantle,’ he replied, ‘which we received as a loan from that poor woman with eye trouble. [A mantle is a thick woolen cloak]. We must give it back to her.’ ‘Do what you think best, brother,’ the guardian answered. With joy, blessed Francis called a spiritual man, who was extremely close to him, and said to him: “Take this mantle and a dozen loaves of bread with you, and go to that poor and sick woman whom the doctor, who is taking care of her, will point out to you. Say to her: ‘The poor man to whom you lent this mantle thanks you for the loan of the mantle which you made with him. Take what is yours.” He went then and told her everything as blessed Francis had told him. Thinking he was joking, she replied with fear and embarrassment: “Leave me in peace. I don’t know what you are talking about!” He placed the mantle and a dozen loaves of bread in her hands. When the woman reflected that he had spoken the truth, she accepted everything with trembling and her heart filled with joy. Then, fearful that he would take it back, she secretly got up during the night and joyfully returned to her home.8

Francis’ concern was both for the welfare of his fellow-patient, the poor woman, and also for her dignity. To his mind, he was returning what really belonged to her. I am reminded of a similar example from my own experience another of our service agencies for the poor in California. When the St. Francis Center in Los Angeles had to move, because of urban redevelopment, from its old quarters next to our St. Joseph’s Church in downtown Los Angeles, the concerns I heard expressed over and over again by the staff were the same: would there be a place for the clothing distribution? would the staff be able to serve hot meals? would the move from one place to the other interrupt the services to the people who came for breakfast? I never heard demands for a more elegant office for the director, or a satellite feed for the business officer or a different color of carpeting for the receptionist’s office: the staff were most concerned about the poor people who relied on them, quite literally, for their “daily bread,” such an important part of the Lord’s Prayer we pray so frequently. Their focus was on “the other,” and not on themselves. Perhaps without any conscious association with Francis and Clare, they were “doing” a Franciscan value, assuring that the poor women and men who came there could be served “courteously.”

5. Joy, cheerfulness, “the smiling countenance”

“Let them be careful not to appear outwardly as sad and gloomy hypocrites but show themselves joyful, cheerful and consistently gracious in the Lord.”9

The so-called “Dictate on True and Perfect Joy” is recognized among authentic sayings of Francis. In an early version it goes like this:

8 Assisi Compilation 89, in FA:ED II, pp. 192-193. 9 Earlier Rule VII, in FA:ED I, p. 69.

… [O]ne day at Saint Mary [of the ], blessed Francis called Brother Leo and said, “Brother Leo, write.” He responded: “Look, I’m ready.” “Write,” he said, “what true joy is.” “A messenger arrives and says that all the Masters of Paris have entered the Order. Write: this isn’t true joy! Or, that all the prelates, archbishops and bishops beyond the mountains, as well as the King of France and the King of England [have entered the Order]. Write: this isn’t true joy! Again, that my brothers have gone to the non-believers and converted all of them to the faith; again, that I have so much grace from God that I heal the sick and perform many miracles. I tell you true joy doesn’t consist in any of these things.” “Then what is true joy?” “I return from Perugia and arrive here in the dead of night. It’s winter time, muddy, and so cold that icicles have formed on the edges of my habit and keep striking my legs and blood flows from such wounds. Freezing, covered with mud and ice, I come to the gate and, after I’ve knocked and called for some time, a brother comes and asks: “Who are you?” “Brother Francis,” I answer. “Go away!” he says. “This is not a decent hour to be wandering about! You may not come in!” When I insist, he replies, ‘Go away! You are simple and stupid! Don’t come back to us again! There are many of us here like you – we don’t need you!” I stand again at the door and say: “For the love of god, take me in tonight!” And he replies, “I will not! Go to the Crosiers’ place and ask there!” “I tell you this: If I had patience and did not become upset, true joy, as well as true virtue and the salvation of my soul, would consist in this.”10

This story has given rise to a typical Franciscan expression, "perfect joy," which appears to mean exactly the opposite of what it says. I have heard this repeated frequently in the midst of Franciscan disasters. We once discovered, just before an FST fund-raising event, that an oven was not working (after a dinner for 150 has already been prepared to go in at 350 for 90 minutes). This is the same expression I have heard when the parish car breaks down on the way to the auto-parts store to get the part that will prevent the van from breaking down. The boiler at a retreat center where I served died the evening before 60 people were arriving for a weekend retreat. When things become truly tragic, the phrase used by many is: “This is perfect joy.”

Whatever it is, “perfect joy” is not a shallow, happy-go-lucky attitude, a certain mindless whimsy: joy is a responsibility toward others, a powerful spiritual force in our tradition, one powerful enough to drive out forces of doubt and darkness.

10 True and Perfect Joy, in FA:ED I, pp. 166-167. “Blessed Francis had this as his highest and main goal: he was always careful to have and preserve in himself spiritual joy internally and externally. … One day he reproved one of his companions who looked sad and long-faced. He told him: “Why are you sad and sorrowful over your offenses? It is a matter between you and God. Pray to Him, that by His mercy he may grant you the joy of His salvation. Try to be joyful always around me and others, because it is not fitting that a servant of God appear before his brother or others with a sad and glum face. … whenever I feel tempted and depressed and I look at the joy of my companion, because of that joy I turn away from the temptation and depression and toward inner joy.”11

A genuine delight in people, in life, even in the absurdity of the hopeless challenges overwhelming us: this is one characteristic of the Franciscan spirit. It hopes in God’s power, not in our own efforts, and is therefore rather more optimistic than reasonable. There is no money to buy the new building; there is no way to serve 10 more people; yet somehow, in God’s great generosity, the food stretches a little further; one person cancels so the one need room is freed up; the unexpected donation arrives just in time to pay the bill. Again and again this “let go and let God” attitude has been witnessed to by the great founders and promoters of our ministries, whether Franciscan Friars, Sisters, or lay women and men: they have been people with great vision, with great faith to go with it.

Conclusion:

These are only a few of the characteristics that I can identify as marking our Franciscan ministries as Franciscan. That does not mean that you won’t find them in other places: I hope you do. Many of them are simply expressions of Francis’ reading of the Gospel and following the life and teaching of Christ. But perhaps over time these have come to mark in a special way the Franciscan places and people who have become sacred to us, and to our tradition.

Each of us comes here is now involved in a Franciscan ministry, in the Province of Saint Barbara; because of our commitment to the mission of FST. Using my remarks as a beginning, you are now invited to make some of these stories come alive in your own way, with the particular marks that have made your Franciscan ministry what it is today. Please spend some time now reflecting on experiences you know, personally, that you consider to have a “Franciscan” flavor. As we share these, we can begin to draw an even more detailed picture of the Franciscan spirit animating our service to FST.

Thank you for your attention, and for your generous service as Regents of FST.

11 Assisi Compilation, 120, in FA:ED II, pp. 229-230.