As a young man, Francis of Assisi loved material things, especially beautiful clothes from the shop of his wealthy merchant father. One biographer describes the handsome, young, fun-loving Francis as “the very king of frolic.” That changed at the age of about 20, after he went to fight in a skirmish with a rival city. He was taken prisoner, held for over a year, and came home very weak from a serious illness.
At some point during his ordeal, Francis realized that there must be more to life than shallow pleasures, and he came to the conclusion that real satisfaction was to be found in loving God and doing what God wanted him to do—love others. He was disowned by his father for giving away family wealth, surrendered whatever other worldly goods and privileges he had, and wandered the countryside, improvising hymns of praise as he went. Others, drawn by his sincerity, zeal, and joy, joined Francis in his vow of poverty—the beginnings of the Franciscan Order.
Francis loved people, from the rich and powerful in their palaces to the beggars in the streets. He also loved animals and is said to have been able to communicate with them. He also is said to have tamed a fierce wolf that terrified the villagers of Gubbio, Italy, and he petitioned the emperor to pass a law that all birds and beasts, as well as the poor, be given extra food at Christmas, “so that all might have occasion to rejoice in the Lord.”
Francis was always looking for new ways to make God’s truths easily understandable to others. At Christmastime 1223, while visiting the town of Grecio, Italy, he had the idea of showing people what Jesus’ birthplace must have been like. He found a mountain cave near the village and fashioned it into a rough stable. St. Bonaventure (d. 1274), in his Life of St. Francis of Assisi, gave this account of what followed:
“Then he prepared a manger and brought hay and an ox and an ass to the place appointed. The brethren were summoned, the people ran together, the forest resounded with their voices, and that venerable night was made glorious by many brilliant lights and sonorous psalms of praise. The man of God [St. Francis] stood before the manger, full of devotion and piety, bathed in tears and radiant with joy. Then he preached to the people around the Nativity of the poor King; and being unable to utter His name for the tenderness of His love, he called Him the Babe of Bethlehem.”
Saint Francis is also considered the “father of the Christmas carol” for having been the first to include carols in Christmas worship services. As a boy, Francis had perhaps learned more in the school of the troubadours—itinerant composers and performers of songs—than from the priests of St. George’s at Assisi, where his father had sent him for an education. It’s not surprising, then, that joyous music became one of Francis’s favorite forms of worship. That joy was contagious, and still is.
Tag: Christmas
Christmas is for Love
Christmas is for love. It is for joy, for giving and sharing, for laughter, for reuniting with family and friends. But, mostly Christmas is for love.
Matthew was a 10 year old orphan who lived with his aunt, a bitter woman greatly annoyed with having to care for him. She never failed to remind young Matthew, if it hadn’t been for her generosity, he would be a vagrant, homeless waif. Still, with all the scolding and chilliness at home, he was a sweet and gentle child.
I had not noticed Matthew particularly until he began staying after class each day to help me straighten up the room. We did this quietly and comfortably, not speaking much, but when we did talk, Matthew spoke mostly of his mother. Though he was quite young when she died, he remembered a kind, gentle, loving woman who always spent time with him.
As Christmas drew near however, Matthew failed to stay after school. I looked forward to his coming, but the days passed and he continued to scamper hurriedly from the room after class, one afternoon I told him how I had missed him, and his large brown eyes lit up eagerly as he replied, ‘Did you really miss me?’
I explained how he had been my best helper, ‘I was making you a surprise,’ he whispered. ‘It’s for Christmas.’ With that, he became embarrassed and dashed from the room.
Finally came the last school day before Christmas. Matthew crept slowly into the room late that afternoon with his hands concealing something behind his back. ‘I have your present,’ he said timidly when I looked up. ‘I hope you like it.’ He held out his hands, and there lying in his small palms was a tiny wooden box.
‘It’s beautiful, Matthew. What’s in it?’ I asked opening the top to look inside. ‘Oh you can’t see what’s in it,’ he replied, ‘and you can’t touch it, or taste it or feel it, but mother always said it makes you feel good all the time, warm on cold nights and safe when you’re all alone.’
I gazed into the empty box. ‘What is it, Matthew’ I asked gently, ‘that will make me feel so good?’
‘It’s love,’ he whispered softly, ‘and mother always said it’s best when you give it away.’ He turned and quietly left the room.
So now I keep a small box crudely made of scraps of wood on the piano in my living room and only smile when inquiring friends raise quizzical eyebrows when I explain to them there is love in it.
Yes, Christmas is for gaiety, mirth, song, and for good and wondrous gifts. But mostly, Christmas is for love.
Pierre Bourbonnais 