By Bud Grant
SAU Theological Perspective
If it weren’t for the foreboding of winter to come, I think October would be my favorite month. Well, that and the almost inevitable flat tire I get because of the sharp shards that rattle loose from harvesting machinery onto the gravel road I drive down every day. Even so, it really is a beautiful time of year in Iowa. It is also nostalgic for me.
First, the Feast of St. Francis is on Oct. 4. Francis lived from 1181 to 1226, the son of a wealthy cloth merchant, Piero. “Francis” is actually a nickname he got because his mother, Pica, was French. His real name was Giovanni di Bernardone. Assisi — one of the most beautiful towns in Italy — was Roman. In Francis’ lifetime, it came to new life as the merchant class began to slip from under the thumb of the feudal aristocracy to create a new “middle” class.
Raised in wealth, good looking, with a great singing voice, young Francesco was very popular and perhaps a bit shallow. His life took a drastic turn when, having convinced his indulgent father to equip him for the crusades, he was captured and ransomed by the city of Perugia. Enduring imprisonment while waiting for Piero to raise the money, he developed a chronic illness, probably tuberculosis. Having been rescued he became listless, sad, sick and lost.
One lonely day he meandered down the side of the hill on which Assisi was built and found the crumbling little church of San Damiano (a quasi-mythic martyr, along with his brother Cosimo). Praying before the still hanging crucifix, Francis thought he heard the voice of Christ telling him to “Va, ripara la mia Chiesa” (Francis: Go! Repair my Church!). It was months later, the chapel being restored, that Francis realized Christ wasn’t talking about “my church” but “the Church.”
Francis renounced his wealth and became a disciple of poverty, simplicity, joy and beauty. In Italian, he is called “Il Santo,” (The Saint) as if there were none other. He is “The Clown of Christ,” who danced and sang his way into the hearts of common people. His monastery was not in some unapproachable refuge but right there, in the midst of his people. His order re-infused into the Church of Christ a love and concern for the poor and marginalized and, indeed, for all of God’s Creation. We still sing his hymns, such as the “Canticle of Creation” and “Make Me a Channel of Your Peace.” Movies, musicals and books have built on his vision.
On Oct. 4, 1979 Pope St. John Paul II came to Iowa. I was the miter bearer. I heard his homily that day about God’s creation and the role that farmers play in executing his will to feed the world. Years later, I chose to focus my PhD on environmental theology.
One of my best memories (about which I wrote in this space just last August) is having hiked from Assisi to Rome with guys who are still among my best friends. It was August of 1983. We walked on the same Roman road that Francis and his companions took in 1209.
Almost every year for about 20 years, I have taken folks to see Francis’ tomb and, more importantly, his legacy. At his tomb, I light a candle for my students, university, friends and family, especially for my dad, James Francis Grant. In 2013, on the train from Assisi to Rome with a group of alumni, one of the participants approached me and said “Fr. Bud, black smoke at noon: we gotta be in the piazza tonight.” My first thought was “Nah, it isn’t on our itinerary” but then, well, yeah, we have to be there.”
So, we were there when the white smoke blossomed from the chimney and Pope Francis was named as the leader of the universal Catholic Church. Since then, I’ve lectured on “Laudato Si’” (2015) and “Laudato Deum” (2023). Both titles evoke St. Francis and his love for all God’s Creation (you really should read them; they are beautiful). Both were issued on Oct. 4.
October is nearly over and, along with the shorter days and denuded fields, we face a momentous quad-annual celebration of democracy. The whole world watches what we do, the “whole of creation groans as if in the pains of childbirth” (Rom.8:22). As we cast our ballots in this year of unprecedented environmental and humanitarian crises, perhaps we can be prompted by the saint of October, the saint of joy and beauty, the saint of humility, of the marginalized and of the earth to consider the good of God’s Creation and of those most marginalized.
All praise be yours, my Lord, through Sister Earth, our Mother,
Who feeds us in her sovereignty and produces various fruits with colored flowers and herbs … (Canticle of Creation)
Make me a channel of your peace,
Where there is hatred let me bring your love … (Canticle of Peace)
(Father Bud Grant is a theology professor at St. Ambrose University in Davenport specializing in Environmental Theology and Historical Theology.)
