St. Francis of Assisi and a Byzantine Catholic Nun: A reflection for the Feast of St. Francis during the Year of St. Francis by Mother Cecilia

I’m not a Franciscan, I’m a Byzantine Catholic nun, but when I hear the name of St. Francis, my heart smiles. Why?  

I visited Assisi in 2007 during the summer before my senior year of college. I actually experienced there a personal encounter more with St. Clare than St. Francis, but over the years since then, I’ve discovered that St. Francis and I (and I think our monastery, too) share a few important themes in common. I think he remains quietly in the background, happy to intercede for his Byzantine daughters without making a fuss.  

My heart first leaped with friendly recognition toward St. Francis when I learned that this man known for his service toward others spent just as much time communing with God in solitude as he spent doing anything else. I sensed his smile of love upon our monastic life and our practice of regular poustinia (“desert;” a two-day retreat in silence and solitude that we take each month). More time ministering to others doesn’t necessarily mean more fruit. Following the call of God always bears the most fruit, even if that fruit doesn’t look like what we expect. A friend gave me a little rock she collected when she climbed up to St. Francis’ hermitage on the slopes of Mount Subasio. I treasure this rock in my icon corner, and it reminds me to try to rest in God in the poustinia of my heart, even in the midst of my duties as hegumena of the monastery. 

St. Francis is also a brother to me in the command of God to renew the Church. Christ on the crucifix (painted in a rather iconographic style) in the dilapidated church of San Damiano came alive to St. Francis and mandated to him, “Rebuild My Church.” St. Francis misunderstood at first, thinking that the physical building of the church of San Damiano was the extent of the Lord’s concern. But St. Francis was being called to renew the whole Body of Christ through the foundation of a religious order and through prayer, penance and love. In the apostolic letter, Orientale Lumen, St. John Paul II called for the renewal of the Eastern monastic tradition in the Eastern Catholic Churches, for the purpose of reigniting the spiritual heartbeat of these Churches and fostering unity between the Eastern and Western Churches. The Lord called me and my sisters to rebuild His Church by founding our monastery and praying and fasting within the heart of the Body of Christ. Several years ago, I co-wrote a song called, “Rebuild My Church,” as a response to division and abuse in the Church. (Visit this webpage to read more about the creation of the Song.) 

The name “St. Francis” is synonymous with the word “poverty.” Not only do we nuns take a vow of poverty, I (and I think my sisters too) learn in the monastery that we are very weak…very poor. With the lack of worldly distractions and through all of the time we spend in prayer and in living closely to each other in community, we come face to face with ourselves, and we find that without God we can do nothing (Jn 15:5). But we also learn that when we are weak, we are strong (2 Cor 12:10), because God can act more powerfully in a person who knows she needs Him and who surrenders her life to Him. The physical poverty for which St. Francis is known is a symbol to me of the freedom to which I aspire by releasing my hands from all to which I cling, whether external or internal. 

And as a bonus, I love nature and see God easily in His creation, just as St. Francis delighted to praise God in His creatures, composing the Canticle of the Creatures. A number of the nuns in our monastery have an outdoor-adventurous spirit and enjoy spending time with God in nature. The nuns might tease me though, that I won’t let them have pets! (Raising monarch butterflies apparently doesn’t fit the description of “pets.”) 

Happy Feast Day, and Happy Year, St. Francis! Please continue to intercede for us!