How did St Francis pray and how might we pray? St Paul tells us in Romans 8:26, the Apostle Paul says: “Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.” I am always trying new techniques and methods, Ignatian, Marian, Centering. I am not sure I am the master of any of them or if I have found a method which really works for me in the sort of consistent way which we see reflected in the lives of some of the saints. I am discovering that Francis helps. Not in the sense of providing a roadmap for a day by day ascent to the high mansions, or a systematic method which can be written down on the back of a piece of paper, or read about in extensive detail. Francis himself appears to have been a somewhat “unmethodical” prayer, if only in the sense that he did not leave us with Spiritual Exercises or extensive rules and writings about his prayer. He liked to spend hours in prayer, liked to do so in places of remoteness, liked to pray during the night. In short, the absence of a Franciscan prayer textbook can be somewhat explained by his clear preference for praying rather than writing about prayer. I have always been struck by his prayer: Who are you Lord and who am I? It is a “mantra” which I am finding helpful as an entry to prayer. One way to raise our hearts and minds to God is to return again and again to the mystery and infinite depth of his Presence from a place of desire and search, an almost blind groping or feeling towards Him. The Dutch and Germans have a great verb for this: “tasten”. This posture in prayer is a way of listening because it ask God to reveal himself rather than grasping at an understanding. I hope to persist in this posture as a way of following in the footsteps of St Francis.

I was recently admitted to the Order of Secular Franciscans during a celebration of the Transitus, the memorial of the passing of St Francis form this life into the next. I was surprised by my own reaction to this event. In asking to be admitted, and in the minister’s acceptance of that request, I experienced a strong connection to St Francis and to the Franciscan family not only across the worlds but also across the centuries. God is at work in our lives in ways that are imperceptible sometimes even to ourselves until they burst forth in an experience of connectedness and grace. St Bonaventure records how Francis, despite being a bit of a party animal, had from an early age been inclined to be charitable to beggars. God was moving him slowly, inch by inch, to conversion, to an ever deeper appreciation of the reality of the indwelling of God in the Other. This movement burst forth ultimately in the moment of conversion, the moment when Francis stepped off his horse and embraced the beggar. Francis described the moment as sweet, a moment of grace. Our journey in the footsteps of Francis does not consist of long, strong, public strides. Christ draws us on in the charism, inch by inch, step by step, and allows us moments where we see the trajectory. In a moment we see how he has worked an continues to work on our conversion.

When I was growing up in the USA, fraternity meant only one thing. The word was used to describe the male student associations on various university campuses. These organisations were in my youth and one can assume still are notorious for their parties, their misbehaviour, and for the demands they placed on those wishing to join them. St Francis did not really create a fraternity in the sense of setting one up, renting or purchasing property, and inventing social events to bring people together. After his conversion, he simply found that others wanted to follow his way of life: poverty, service to lepers and marginalised people, simplicity, prayer and contemplation, focus on the journey to God. Indeed, he said himself :”The Lord gave me brothers.” In other words, there was a common bond formed in terms of intention and way of life. His brothers were to him a gift from God, an undeserved grace. As secular Franciscans, our rule enjoins us to build a more fraternal world. It also asks us to live out our vocation in union with out local fraternity, brothers and sisters who we did not choose and who often only became known to us when we ourselves felt a call to the Franciscan life. Fraternity, a sense of the brotherhood and sisterhood of all, is such a central element of Jesus’ message but it is a concept under high pressure today. We prize and preach and live lives devoted to autonomy and individualism. Economic and social dislocation produces in us a fear of even considering a stranger as a brother or sister. I am always amazed to read about St Francis welcoming his new brothers with open arms and almost immediately receiving them into the fraternity, the brotherhood. Early on in the Franciscan movement, all sorts of people from all sorts of backgrounds and places wanted to live this fraternity and Francis welcomed them all, not setting high bars for qualification or inclusion. Of course, this fraternity was not an abstract concept or some kind of signal of virtue. It was real. The brothers shared everything and shared life. They were able to do so because Jesus did the same, and because their hearts were filled with the awareness of the presence of God in them which enabled them to recognise the presence of God in each other. It was the reality of their experience of the presence of God which empowered them to be and become fraternal. When I was growing up in the USA, fraternity meant only one thing. The word was used to describe the male student associations on various university campuses. These organisations were in my youth and one can assume still are notorious for their parties, their misbehaviour, and for the demands they placed on thsoe wishing to join them. St Francis did not really create a fraternity in the sense of setting one up, renting or purchasing property, and inventing social events to bring people together. After his conversion, he simply found that others wanted to follow his way of life: poverty, service to lepers and marginalised people, simplicity, prayer and contemplation, focus on the journey to God. Indeed, he said himself :”The Lord gave me brothers.” In other words, there was a common bond form in terms of intention and way of life. As secular Franciscans, our rule enjoins us to build a more fraternal world. It also asks us to live out our vocation in union with out local fraternity, brothers and sisters who we did not choose and who often only became known to us when we ourselves felt a call to the Franciscan life. Fraternity, a sense of the brotherhood and sisterhood of all, is such a central element of Jesus’ message but it is a concept under high pressure today. We prize and preach and live lives devoted to autonomy and individualism. Economic and social dislocation produces in us a fear of even considering a stranger as a brother or sister. I am always amazed to read about St Francis welcoming his new brothers with open arms and almost immediately receiving them into the fraternity, the brotherhood. Early on in the Franciscan movement, all sorts of people form all sorts of backgrounds and places wanted to live this fraternity and Francis welcomed them all, not setting high bars for qualification or inclusion. Of course, this fraternity was not an abstract concept or some kind of signal of virtue. It was real. The brothers shared everything and shared life. They were able to do so because Jesus did the same, and because their hearts were filled with the awareness of the presence of God in them which enabled them to recognise the presence of God in each other. It was the reality of their experience of the presence of God which empowered them to be and become fraternal. When I was growing up in the USA, fraternity meant only one thing. The word was used to describe the male student associations on various university campuses. These organisations were in my youth and one can assume still are notorious for their parties, their misbehaviour, and for the demands they placed on thsoe wishing to join them. St Francis did not really create a fraternity in the sense of setting one up, renting or purchasing property, and inventing social events to bring people together. After his conversion, he simply found that others wanted to follow his way of life: poverty, service to lepers and marginalised people, simplicity, prayer and contemplation, focus on the journey to God. Indeed, he said himself :”The Lord gave me brothers.” In other words, there was a common bond form in terms of intention and way of life. As secular Franciscans, our rule enjoins us to build a more fraternal world. It also asks us to live out our vocation in union with out local fraternity, brothers and sisters who we did not choose and who often only became known to us when

Francis wanted his friars to be called “minores”, which can be loosely translated as lesser people, or smaller people. For Francis is was obvious that this pursuit of minority, of lessness, was at the heart of the example Jesus gave us, and at the heart of the Gospel. We see this especially in Jesus’ washing of the feet of his disciples before his crucifixion which Jesus himself calls an example for them and to them of how to live and who to be and his teaching to his position- conscious, mumbling and grumbling disciples that the greatest will be the one who is least and servant of all. I am always amazed that this idea of minority is attractive to me and even more amazed that despite its attractiveness to me it is so difficult for me to put into practice. It would be liberating not to have to pretend to competence, knowledge or power, not to have to assert, not to have to push oneself forcefully forward, especially in the work environment. It would be inebriating to wander the world allowing oneself to be lesser, MINOR, rather than bigger, MAIOR, not first, or top, or even good. I suspect the attraction to this is partly borne of a desire to escape the demand of our culture to promote oneself, to act with a certain force and authority so that the things we care about get done and we are seen to be important, relevant, useful. It is so tiring to be or try to be  MAIOR. It would immediately relieve us of this intense work of assertion if we could be MINORES. In fact, if I dared to pursue minority, what would I do all day? I think it would free up a lot of time and energy. I wish I could keep Francis’ example of minority before my eyes when I am speaking to customer service representatives. I find myself becoming increasingly forceful, mostly because I fear that if I do not my ticket will not be refunded or my hoover or boiler fixed or replaced. My children even ask me to call companies to fight these telephonic battles. I change when I make these calls, just as I change when I wake up and face the world. I become immensely self-important. I do this I think because of a lack of faith, not only in customer service departments but in God. Minority or lessness requires a confidence that we are shielded under the wings of a loving and compassionate Father, that we can trust in Him even if we cannot trust completely in anything else. The minority exemplified by Jesus and by Francis is thus ultimately a product of faith, faith that God is in charge, that God is sufficient, that I can be a child, needy, lesser.  In becoming Franciscan, we are helped by this word minority, lesserness. It sums up an unspoken desire of the heart, a longing which we need help to pursue.

This is what I want. This is what I seek, this is what I desire with all my heart. Francis had heard while attending Mass a reading from Chapter 10 of Matthew’s Gospel in which Jesus instructs his disciples to go out and preach. “You received without payment, give without payment. Take no gold, silver or copper in your belts, no bag for the journey, or two tunics, or sandals or staff.” I am amazed that he had not heard this passage before. The story reminds me that the declaration of the Gospels in Church was likely the way in which Francis got to know the scriptures. He did not carry a copy of the Gospel with him. There was no bible study group, no YouTube channel, no copy of the catechism. His encounter with the message of Christ was within the Mass. He heard the Word proclaimed. I am jealous of his seemingly totally fresh approach, to a fresh message, to something living, immediate, and new. To know what I want is not the most difficult thing. I can make a list. In fact, I think I try to keep my list inclusive and comprehensive, I try to arbitrate among competing desires and hopes, to balance out the various goods which make up my life, any life. But Francis does not do that here. He is able to desire something “with all my heart”, he is able to use the word this, rather than these. He has experienced singularity, focus, totality, and responds completely to something totally new. How do I continue to stand in front of reality and see and hear things as something new? This theme of single mindedness or focus is also present in the story of Jesus visiting Mary and Martha. ( Luke 10 38-42) Martha is described as “worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed.” There is a reality within Mary’s focus that corresponds to the heart, a focus which, by narrowing itself, opens something new. Francis’ response to hearing Matthew 10 is to recognise an invitation which corresponds to him, which he recognises as truly himself. He knows his own heart well enough to recognise the thing which makes his heart soar. My encounter with Christ lacks this abandon. In spiritual terms I tend to consequentialism. Something is good, if the outcome from it is good. Something has value, if the consequences are valuable. I try to think where a pursuit of my heart’s desire may lead, or will lead. I balance duties, responsibilities, and expectations. Prudence and temperance, and wisdom are invoked. But my heart recognises in Francis’ heart that which I desire: a freedom to respond to that which itself corresponds to my heart, a recognition that my life contains an encounter which I can pursue above all others, which can end the equivocation, doubt, and hesitation.