Brother Sun, Sister Moon

For those of us interested in such things, church calendars set aside today's date to commemorate the life of St. Francis of Assisi. Because, many moons ago, at confirmation, I chose St. Francis as my patron, his life story tends to come to mind each October.

I suspect many people squirm a bit at mention of St. Francis. Not only because of excessive use of his statue as decoration in gardens and homes of a certain sort, but because stories of his life are so frequently sentimentalized. Paintings of Francis preaching to the birds -- cute, fluttery little fellows hovering about him like Disney's birds singing with Cinderella -- are either charming or nauseating, depending on your own temperament

But he was a real person, not a cartoon confection. Francis was born in about 1181, son of a rich merchant. He had a privileged upbringing, hung out with wealthy friends, became a troubador (the rock singers of his time) at the height of that fashionable activity, and aspired to write French poetry.

At some point, he became disturbed at the poverty around him and turned aside from his more-or-less slacker pleasures to devote increasing amounts of time caring for the poor and the ill. In about 1205, he experienced a mystical vision that confirmed him in his new life. He eventually came into conflict with his bewildered father. Like the Buddha in India, who underwent a similar transformation 1,500 years earlier, he renounced his inheritance, gave up all his property including the clothes on his back, and went out onto the streets to live as a beggar. (Something to think about as we walk contemptuously past a bearded guy on the sidewalk, holding a cardboard sign.)

Eventually, he felt moved to form a new community, now known popularly as the Franciscan order, the first religious order that focused on preaching to the common people rather than living apart from them in a monastic setting. He preached throughout the Mediterranean world, died in 1226, and was declared a saint two years later.

St. Francis loved nature and wildlife, and his biography is full of stories, real or simply devout, about his ability to communicate with animals. He is said to be the first poet in the Italian language, a century before Dante, writing in his native Umbrian dialect rather than Latin. He is the patron saint of nature and of environmentalists, of merchants and stowaways, of Italy and the Philippines.

When a young person chooses a patron saint at confirmation, he indicates in some way the kind of person he aspires to be. Measuring his life later against his youthful aspirations is always humbling, and always worth the humiliation. Is devotion to household pets, a devotion I share with the late Leona Helmsley, my only connection to the sanctity of Francis of Assisi? Certainly I've never had mystical visions, or even a stronger than average sense of divine providence in my life.

But Francis's life, despite his later meetings and negotiations with popes and bishops, teaches that a worthwhile life need not be based on dramatic events, visions, martyrdoms, crusades, scholarly writings and debates, charismatic leadership. A good life is based essentially on small choices made day by day that go unnoticed, perhaps even by the person making the choices. Still not an easy goal, by any means, still a goal we all fall short of, but a goal at least within the aspirations of the average person.

St. Francis was a man of great talents, but he saw himself, at heart, as a simple beggar, one of God's fools, living close to nature, confronting his Creator in the face of his neighbor. Not a bad role model to choose when you're young. Not a bad view of life to keep in mind as you get older.