A decent bit of my reading this summer has been “saint-centric.”  Right now I’m slowly working through Fire Within by Thomas Dubay.  The book is a consideration of prayer through the works of Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross.  It’s a stretch for me, but a good one.

Earlier this summer, I spent some time reading G. K. Chesterton’s St. Francis of Assisi, a topic mainly inspired by a podcast.  The book is pure Chesterton, of course, which means you get more about his view of history and the world than you do of Francis himself.  But Chesterton is usually great regardless of topic.  I didn’t know much about Francis before reading this, but now at least I know a fuller sketch of his life and times (and how easy it can be to co-opt someone like Francis to an agenda other than what and Who Francis was about).  A quote from early in the book:

The first fact to realize about St. Francis is involved in the first fact with which his story starts; that when he said from the first that he was a Troubadour, and said later that he was a Troubadour of a newer and nobler romance, he was not using a mere metaphor, but understood himself much better than the scholars understand him.  He was, to the last agonies of asceticism, a Troubadour.  He was a Lover.  He was a lover of God and he was really and truly a lover of men; possibly a much rarer mystical vocation.  A lover of men is very nearly the opposite of a philanthropist; indeed the pedantry of the Greek word carries something like a satire on itself.  A philanthropist may be said to love anthropoids. But as St. Francis did not love humanity but men, so he did not love Christianity but Christ.

An interesting distinction.

Chesterton has a good bit to say about Francis as the “next step” in the movement of history from one age to another (which is why it is so easy to co-opt him for any of a number of causes).  Near the end of the book, Chesterton asserts the interesting idea that “what St. Benedict had stored St. Francis scattered,” which makes a good deal of sense and says the work of God through both men was good.

One last quote and then a song.  A third of the way through the book, Chesterton writes:

… the whole philosophy of St. Francis revolved round the idea of a new supernatural light on natural things, which meant the ultimate recovery, not the ultimate refusal of natural things.

That’s a good word, too.  The phrase “ultimate recovery,” in particular.

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Many years ago, Rich Mullins and friends did a concept album called Canticle of the Plains, which was loosely based on the story of St. Francis.  As best I can tell, there was only one song from the work released to radio, and it wasn’t even sung by Rich.  The song, “Heaven is Waiting,” was performed by Mitch McVicker and casts the love Francis had for God in the life of man named Frank.  From what I can tell, it captures the basics of Francis quite well.