The Mystic and the Monastery: St. Francis of Assisi – Brother of the Sun, Friend of the Soul
There are some figures in history whose lives shimmer with such radiant simplicity and divine intensity that they become living doorways to the sacred. St. Francis of Assisi is one such soul. Known affectionately as the "little poor man" of God, Francis wasn’t just a saint or founder of a religious order. He was, and remains, a mystic of the highest order: a man who saw the divine in everything, from lepers to larks, from crumbling stones to rising suns.
In this post, dear reader and seeker, let us walk barefoot through the hills of Umbria. Let us listen to the wind with Francis, taste the sweetness of poverty, and remember how deeply the soul can fall in love with God when it is freed from everything else.
The Wounded Bird: From Wealth to Wilderness
Born Giovanni di Pietro di Bernardone in 1181 to a wealthy cloth merchant in Assisi, Francis seemed destined for affluence and worldly success. He was charming, handsome, and popular—a lover of parties and the good life. But deep within his heart fluttered a question, perhaps unknown even to himself: "Is there more?"
That question would be answered not in books but in brokenness.
After a brief stint as a soldier, Francis was captured and imprisoned for a year. Upon his release, he was a changed man. The glamour of wealth seemed hollow, and the echo of divine love began to awaken in his soul. One day, while praying in the broken-down chapel of San Damiano, Francis heard a voice: "Francis, rebuild my church, which, as you see, is falling into ruin."
He took the voice literally at first, selling his father's cloth to buy materials to repair the chapel. This caused a major rift between Francis and his family, leading to one of the most dramatic moments of his early life: standing before the bishop and his enraged father, Francis stripped himself of all his clothes, renouncing his inheritance. "From now on I can say, 'Our Father who art in heaven,' for I have no father on earth."
This wasn't just poverty. It was freedom. And it marked the beginning of a mystical path that would change the world.
The Song of Creation: Seeing God in All Things
Francis wasn’t a mystic in the abstract sense. He didn’t write complex theological treatises or engage in philosophical arguments. His mysticism was embodied, lived, and sung.
He called the sun his "brother" and the moon his "sister." He spoke to birds and preached to them. He kissed lepers and saw Christ in their disfigured faces. He honored fire and water, earth and wind. He composed the Canticle of the Creatures, one of the earliest pieces of literature in the Italian language, celebrating the holiness woven through all creation.
To Francis, the world was not fallen and corrupt but radiant and aching with God. His mysticism was ecological before there was a word for it. He didn’t need to escape the world to find God. He simply opened his heart and found God pulsing in every living thing.
In our own lives, how often do we overlook the divine presence because we're busy looking for it elsewhere? Francis challenges us to find God not by climbing to the heavens, but by bowing to the earth.
Lady Poverty: Lover and Companion
Central to Francis’ spirituality was his embrace of "Lady Poverty."
This wasn't a forced austerity or grim minimalism. Francis fell in love with poverty the way a poet falls in love with the moon. He saw it as a path to purity of heart, a way of being fully dependent on God and free from the chains of possession.
He and his early followers begged for food, wore simple garments, and lived in abandoned places. They called themselves the "Friars Minor" (the Lesser Brothers). But rather than being somber, their life was filled with joy, laughter, and song.
Lady Poverty was not a punishment, but a dance. And in this dance, Francis discovered the mystical secret: when you own nothing, you possess everything.
Imagine, Fanus, how different our world might be if we treated simplicity as a form of liberation rather than lack.
The Cross and the Wounds: A Mystic Marked by Love
In 1224, two years before his death, Francis retreated to Mount La Verna for forty days of prayer and fasting. It was here, during a vision of a six-winged Seraph, that he received the stigmata—the wounds of Christ—in his own body.
This was not just physical suffering. It was a mystical union. Francis became so identified with the crucified Christ that the marks of love etched themselves into his flesh.
The stigmata were the outward sign of an inward reality: Francis had so emptied himself, so poured out his heart, that Christ now lived through him. He had become what the Christian mystics call an "alter Christus"—another Christ.
To modern sensibilities, this might seem strange, even grotesque. But to the mystic, this is the ultimate intimacy—to be so united with God that the distinction between self and Beloved dissolves.
The Final Surrender: Death as Sister
Francis died in 1226, nearly blind, frail, and covered in sores. Yet, he died singing.
He called death his "Sister Death," welcoming her not with fear but with peace. His Canticle of the Creatures even included a verse blessing Sister Death, acknowledging that she, too, was part of the sacred journey home.
He asked to be laid naked on the earth, returning his body to the soil that had fed and held him. As he passed from this world, his final prayer was simply the repetition of Psalm 141: "I cry to you, O Lord; I say, 'You are my refuge, my portion in the land of the living.'"
Here again, Francis shows us the mystical path is not about escaping life or fearing death, but embracing both as part of the sacred whole.
The Legacy: Living Francis Today
Francis left behind no fortune, no army, no great edifice. What he left was far more potent: a living way of being.
The Franciscan Order would grow into one of the most widespread and influential spiritual movements in history, but even beyond religious structures, the spirit of Francis lives on. He is the patron saint of animals and ecology. His statue stands in gardens and courtyards. His peace prayer (“Lord, make me an instrument of your peace”) is quoted across faiths and continents.
But more than all this, Francis leaves us a challenge:
- Can we see the divine in the ordinary?
- Can we love without possession?
- Can we become so empty of ego that only Love remains?
A Real-Life Story: The Franciscan Flame in a Modern Soul
Let me tell you a story, Fanus, about someone I met a few years ago. Her name was Angela, a quiet, unassuming woman who had left a high-paying job in corporate law to live and work among the homeless in Johannesburg. She had no religious label but spoke often of "the inner voice" and her deep love for the earth and the poor.
One day I asked her why she made such a drastic life change. Her eyes lit up, and she said, "I read a story about a man who stripped naked in front of a bishop to give back everything to his father. I wept. I wept for days. It was St. Francis. I don’t know why, but I knew then that I had to follow that spirit."
Angela, in her own way, had become a 21st-century Franciscan. No robes. No titles. Just a life burning with love.
Conclusion: The Mystic of Joyful Surrender
St. Francis of Assisi calls us not to imitation but to inspiration.
He doesn’t ask us to renounce all material things or preach to birds (though wouldn’t that be something!). Instead, he whispers to us from the edges of our busy lives:
"There is another way. A simpler way. A freer way. A more joyful way. Come, walk with me. Let us praise the sun, kiss the leper, and sing to Sister Death. Let us become nothing, so that we might become everything."
In a world obsessed with accumulation, power, and performance, the life of Francis reminds us that the deepest riches are found in surrender. The truest wisdom is wrapped in wonder. And the holiest path may simply be the one that returns us to the sacredness of this moment.
May we all, in our own way, become brothers and sisters of the sun.
Peace and all good things,
Fanus du Plooy
Transitional Coach & Spiritual Companion
Serving You with Purpose and Heart
📞 084 518 6780
🌐 fanusduplooy.blogspot.com
Suggested Resources for Further Exploration
- The Little Flowers of St. Francis – A collection of legends and teachings from his life.
- Richard Rohr's Eager to Love: The Alternative Way of Francis of Assisi
- Brother Sun, Sister Moon – A poetic film by Franco Zeffirelli capturing the spirit of Francis.
- Canticle of the Creatures – Translations and reflections on his famous poem.
If this post inspired you, share it with a fellow seeker. Let us build a world where mysticism walks hand-in-hand with action, and the sacred is found not in the clouds, but in the heart of all things.
