In chapter nineteen, we encounter the climactic scene of the gospels, Jesus crucified upon the Cross. Up until now, entering the scene has been a suggestion. Hopefully your best efforts have been successful and helped you to be present with Jesus as He moved through His public ministry. Hopefully your ability to enter the scenes has steadily improved as you journeyed with Jesus toward this ultimate scene. Hopefully that improvement has deepened and enriched the experience of being immersed in the gospel narrative.
But for Franciscans, entering the scene of the Crucifixion is mandatory. We believe gazing upon the Cross is a primary way of encountering Jesus and deepening our connection to Him. We are meant to spend meaningful time in prayer and contemplation before the Cross, taking in everything it has to teach us.
On the Cross, Jesus is a flawless sacrifice for the sins of every man and woman who has ever existed, which makes Him an infinite expression of uncompromising Love. On the Cross, Jesus combines perfect obedience and Kingship and becomes the faultless servant of God His Father, and we, His brothers and sisters. On the Cross, Jesus is an impeccable expression of Poverty, stripped both literally and figuratively of all earthly raiment and at the same time completely triumphant over all earthly care, seamlessly joined to the Will and Love of His Father in heaven.
We know that one of Francis’ main conversion experiences happened before the San Damiano Crucifix. Thomas of Celano, in book six of The Remembrance of the Desire of a Soul, describes that event like this:
He was walking one day by the church of San Damiano, which was abandoned by everyone and almost in ruins. Led by the Spirit he went in to pray and knelt down devoutly before the crucifix. He was shaken by unusual experiences and discovered that he was different from when he entered. As soon as he had this feeling, there occurred something unheard of in previous ages: with the lips of the painting, the image of Christ crucified spoke to him. “Francis,” it said, calling him by name, “go rebuild My house: as you see, it is all being destroyed.” Francis was more than a little stunned, trembling, and stuttering like a man out of his senses. He prepared himself to obey and pulled himself together to carry out the command. He felt this mysterious change in himself, but he could not describe it. So it is better for us to remain silent about it too. From that time on, compassion for the Crucified was impressed into his holy soul. And we honestly believe the wounds of the sacred Passion were impressed deep in his heart, though not yet on his flesh.
By our profession, we have obligated ourselves to follow the footsteps of Francis in this. We believe the Spirit leads us just as it led Francis to gaze upon the Crucifix as a regular part of our prayer life. We hope to be shaken by unusual experiences before the Cross. We want Jesus to speak to us, if not out loud, at least in our hearts. We long to experience the same mysterious conversion that Francis experienced. We want desperately to have the wounds of the sacred Passion impressed deeply upon our hearts.
We place ourselves in the scene of the Crucifixion anticipating that these things will happen to us.
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John Chapter 19, verse 19:
Pilate also wrote an inscription and put in on the cross. It read, “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.”
In the first half of this chapter, there is an interesting contrast between the suffering of Jesus and His status as “King of the Jews.” In the first verse, Jesus is flogged. In the second and third verses, the soldiers crown Him with thorns and dress him in purple. They then mock Him as “King of the Jews” and strike Him across the face.
I would like to put the possibility in front of you that the soldiers, in their actions, are truly crowning Jesus even though their intent is to humiliate Him. The abuse that Jesus suffers at the hands of the Romans constitutes His worldly coronation. God uses the Romans for His own purposes to present us with a very new and different image of what it means to be a proper King. A King is not someone who is exalted, but instead someone who deliberately leaves His heavenly thrown in order to experience what His people experience. He does not avoid the hardship of everyday life, but instead He shares in the suffering of His subjects. He does not even understand His subjects to be subjects, but instead He sees them as friends and is willing to lay down His life in service to them.
In our experience, an inauguration is a very earthly event, full of pomp and circumstance. The new leader and all his guests are dressed in their finest clothes, they eat the finest food, and they drink the finest wine while attending a banquet that none of us are invited to attend. Grand speeches are made and concerts are given in celebration of the new leader. The paparazzi are present in every nook and cranny, documenting the scene in every way possible, so that the media can make the event ever larger in the eyes of our earth-centric culture.
But we have learned as we have journeyed through the gospel of John that a primary part of the message of Jesus is the rejection of these earthly trappings. Jesus gives us an example of Poverty to follow, not an example of indulgence. His Kingdom is not of this earth. It would be inappropriate for His coronation to be filled with material, earthly accoutrements. By enduring suffering for the sake of His unfathomable Love for us, Jesus has made an indisputable claim to the title of King. He has earned His title in a way that no earthly King ever could.
In verse 14, Pilate says to the Jews, “Behold your King.” In verse 15, he asks, “Shall I crucify your King?” The Jews will not relent, so despite his acknowledgement of Jesus as King, Pilate delivers Him over to be crucified.
In essence, Pilate introduces the new King to the people and the coronation ceremony ends when Jesus is handed over. Now the King will go about the business of governing. The King will lead his people, but not in any way they might expect. He will not exercise power, but instead he will govern by perfect example. His reign, at least the earthly portion of it, will not be long, but it will be long enough for Him to teach a most powerful eternal lesson about selflessness, obedience, service and Love. The lesson is so powerful that the world has never forgotten it and His Kingship has endured forever.
After declaring Jesus to be “the King of the Jews” in the verses above, Pilate, in verse 19, places that title on the top of the cross. This upsets the Jews, and they ask that it be taken down or amended. In response, Pilate finally stands his ground. At verse 22, he declares “I have written what I have written.”
Pilate has come to the conclusion that Jesus truly is the King of the Jews. His unwillingness to change the sign he ordered mounted to the Cross is his confession of this conclusion. Despite ordering and allowing the suffering of Jesus, in the end, Pilate stands as a witness to who Jesus truly is.
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The Kingship of Jesus is different than our earthly perception of kingship. His willingness to experience the Incarnation, to meet us on our own ground, to become man and to suffer as man suffers, breaks down the kind of barriers that exist between an earthly king and his subjects. Thus, while we acknowledge Jesus as Christ the King on one hand, we also experience Him as brother and friend on the other in a way we never would the President or the Queen of England.
Jesus has established a measure of equality with us. We don’t aspire to be His equal in His role as our Lord and Teacher, but we do want to emulate Him in the areas of our life where we can. The measure of equality given to us by Christ as He shares in our suffering makes that emulation feasible. If He were only King, then we could not hope to be like Him. But when He chooses to embrace Poverty as part of His Incarnation, He becomes our brother and draws close enough to us and experiences enough of our same experiences that we can hope to emulate that side of His example.
It’s easy to embrace the idea that we should love one another as Jesus loves us. It’s not easy to actually do, but we can at least readily embrace the idea without reservation.
We also, with the help of our formation, accept the need to embrace His Spiritual Poverty. Again, it’s not easy to enact. But with the support of the Spirit and the fraternity, we find ourselves able to profess the intent to live a life that includes Franciscan Spiritual Poverty as an ideal.
But what about suffering? Can I accept the suffering in my life without reservation? If I look again through the Passion of Jesus, am I even willing to acknowledge that suffering is a preeminent and necessary component of His coronation? What about His ability to endure the pain of the Cross as the cost of perfectly enacting His Kingship?
Am I ready to accept suffering and pain as a preeminent and necessary component of the equality that Jesus has graced me with? Can I accept them as central to my ability to emulate both Francis and Christ?
Francis struggled with this himself. But just as Jesus was present to him at the San Damiano crucifix, He was also present to him when Francis faced this hurdle.
This story about Francis and his illnesses is given to us in The Assisi Compilation, chapter eighty-three:
One night as blessed Francis was reflecting on all the troubles he was enduring, he was moved by piety for himself. “Lord,” he said to himself, “make haste to help me in my illnesses, so that I may be able to bear then patiently.” And suddenly he was told in spirit: “Tell me, brother, what if, in exchange for your illnesses and troubles, someone were to give you a treasure? And it would be so great and precious that, even if the whole earth were changed to pure gold, all stones to precious stones, and all water to balsam, you would still hold these things as nothing, as if they were earth, stones and water, in comparison to the great and precious treasure which was given you. Wouldn’t you greatly rejoice?”
“Lord,” blessed Francis answered, “this treasure would indeed be great, worth seeking, very precious, greatly lovable and desirable.”
“Then, brother,” he was told, “be glad and rejoice in your illnesses and troubles, because as of now, you are as secure as if you were already in my kingdom.”
The next morning on rising, he said to his companions: “If the emperor were to give a whole kingdom to one of his servants, shouldn’t he greatly rejoice? But, what if it were the whole empire, wouldn’t he rejoice even more?” And he said to them, “I must rejoice greatly in my illnesses and troubles and be consoled in the Lord, giving thanks always to God the Father, to His only Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, and to the Holy Spirit for such great grace and blessing. In His mercy He has given me, His unworthy little servant still living in the flesh, the promise of His kingdom.”
Note, first of all, that Francis is called brother on two occasions. Here is the measure of equality that I was speaking of above. Brothers can do the same things and share the same experiences. That is not true of earthly kings and their subjects.
Then note the phrase, “my kingdom.” Who, I ask you, can grant passage into “His kingdom” other than the King?
Jesus here is represented simultaneously in both his role as brother and as King.
And what is it that links the two together but suffering? Jesus, in the gospel of John, is established as King in the midst of the Passion, in the midst of His suffering. That suffering is integral to his identity as King and Lord. That suffering makes Him the proper “not of this world” loving servant King that He was born to be.
That suffering also defines Him as man and brother. He suffers as Francis suffers. Jesus willingly bore His suffering in order to fulfill the Will of God and He invites Francis to do the same. When Francis willingly accepts the burden of suffering that Jesus requests of him, he unites himself to Jesus. In the process, he gains access to the Kingdom.
Francis was able to accept the burden of suffering without losing his sense of joy. Recall again the Franciscan definition of true joy that we have already discussed in multiple places, especially chapters three and twelve. This joyful acceptance of suffering as the opportunity to be united to the Passion of Christ results in Francis emulating Jesus precisely.
And it would seem that Jesus likes the company of those who are willing to emulate His suffering. He likes their company enough that He is willing to promise entry into His Kingdom as their reward.
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Francis is not alone in receiving the promise of the Kingdom in exchange for enduring tribulation. In chapter 5 of The Deeds of Blessed Francis and His Companions, we are given this story about Brother Bernard:
It happened that one day while Francis was praying, it was revealed to him that Brother Bernard with the permission of God was being attacked by many fierce devils. While Saint Francis with a compassionate heart was pondering over these things concerning such a beloved son, he tearfully prayed for many days and asked our Lord Jesus Christ to give him victory over so many assaults. And during this prayer while Francis was ever alert, troubled, and attentive, he received an answer from God: “Brother, never fear. All the temptations by which Brother Bernard is being assailed were given to him for the purpose of improvement and a crown, and at the end of all these attacks on him he will joyously carry off the palm of victory. Brother Bernard is one of those who will eat at the same table with God in his kingdom.”
Again, note that Francis is called “brother” by the Lord.
And note that the tribulations that Brother Bernard is experiencing are done with the permission of God. These temptations were given to Bernard. It’s hard to think of being attacked by fierce devils as a gift, but this seems to be the case. They are a gift that allows Brother Bernard the opportunity to share in the coronation of Christ by uniting his tribulations to the suffering of Jesus. They even share a purpose according to the description. Jesus, at the end of his trials, manifests the mantel of Kingship. Bernard endures his devils for the purpose of a crown.
I think it’s safe to assume that Bernard, following the example of Francis, willingly accepted these trials. And in the end, like Francis, Bernard winds up joyous.
And also, like Francis, Bernard’s reward for victory over these tribulations and temptations is a seat at the table of God in his Kingdom. Francis was given the promise of the Kingdom in exchange for enduring his illnesses. Brother Bernard has received the exact same promise in exchange for enduring his trials.
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In the end, the promise of the Kingdom is made to all faithful Franciscans. In the prologue to The Book of Chronicles or Of the Tribulations of the Order of Lesser Brothers, we find this reference to the promise of the Kingdom:
You and all your brothers whom I will give you are to live in My likeness, as strangers and pilgrims, dead to the world. Ground yourself, your rule and life on the poverty and nakedness of My cross, because My substance of all communicable riches of graces and glory is grounded and based on poverty, and the infinite blessed enjoyment of all My goods is possessed in striving toward My humility. For the depth of humility is immense, and in those who truly love and possess poverty and humility is the look of My happiness and the resting place and dwelling of My favor.
Therefore the congregation of your brotherhood will be called the religion of lesser ones, so that from the name they might understand that above all they are truly to be humble of heart; since humility is the cloak of My honor and praise, and anyone passing from this life with this habit will find the gates of My kingdom open.
The Poverty of the Cross is established by the suffering of Jesus throughout His Passion. His acceptance of the Will of the Father is an act of profound humility that graces the path to Golgotha. We are called to ground ourselves in the “Poverty and nakedness of the Cross.” As with Brother Bernard, the hardships we encounter are to be looked upon as gifts from God, as opportunities for Poverty and humility, as opportunities to follow in the footsteps of Jesus and Francis and Bernard by uniting our sufferings and tribulations to those of Christ’s Passion.
When we possess Poverty and humility, we gain His happiness. We remain joyous despite the trials we might have to endure.
The reward for being able to embrace this Poverty, this suffering and this humility are the open gates of the Kingdom. The King has promised us entry into the Kingdom in exchange for a life lived as lesser ones, as those who embrace the Poverty and humility of the Cross and the Passion of the Lord.
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As he prays before the San Damiano crucifix, the wounds of the sacred Passion are impressed deep in the heart of St. Francis. Francis feeds that impression resolutely until the wounds become so much a part of him that they are manifested externally in the form of the stigmata. Francis is perhaps the greatest emulator of Christ who has ever lived. And his earthly reward is to physically endure the wounds of the Passion.
It’s not what you would expect. How is it that such perfect worship leads to such suffering?
But the coronation of Jesus is also not what you would expect. Jesus is following the Will of God precisely, and He winds up flogged, wearing a crown of thorns and nailed to the Cross, and thus is His Kingship revealed. Again, the earthly reward for perfect worship is physical suffering.
Bernard endures fierce devils in order to secure his entry into the Kingdom. As a Franciscan, I am asked to embrace Poverty and humility, to embrace my own version of the Cross as closely as possible, in order that the gates of heaven might be opened to me. Even if I lived out my profession perfectly, I should not expect to be exempt from earthly suffering.
But the key is in the word “earthly.” The suffering is all confined to the earth. The true reward, the true goal, is the promise of the Kingdom. When the promise of the Kingdom is fulfilled, the earthly suffering disappears, is easily forgotten and comes to nothing more than a passing inconvenience.
Our goal as Franciscans is to emulate Jesus as closely as we can, to draw as close to Him as possible.
We should not be surprised, then, that we are asked to share in His suffering. His suffering is integral to who He is. If we are to become like Him, our experience would be incomplete if we did not share in His Passion in some way.
But our joy comes from knowing that He is triumphant. His suffering ends and His victory is eternal. If we manage to secure the promise of the Kingdom, we will get to spend all of eternity with Him not in a state of earthly suffering, but in a state of eternal bliss.
As I live out my life on this earth, I find myself in a state of constant distraction. The enemy does everything he can to keep my focus on only the short term, on only the conditions that I am currently experiencing. He wants me to see my suffering not as an opportunity, but as the only reality I will ever know. He wants me to get lost in my suffering. He wants my suffering to consume me and blind me to any possibility that everything will end up ok. He wants my suffering to bring me down to such a level that all I can do is rebel against it, unable to embrace it as the link to Jesus that it truly is.
He wants me to remain oblivious to the promise of the Kingdom that awaits me at the end of my tribulations.
Jesus wants me to understand that the suffering of the world is necessary but temporary. As we read through the accounts of His Passion in the various gospels, we are horrified by what He had to endure. But what He endures is over in a day. In only three days’ time, He is raised from the tomb. A short time after that, He ascends into heavenly blessedness to take His place at the right hand of the Father.
Even if I am asked to suffer for years at the end of my life before I am taken home, those years will seem to be only a day when looked at in retrospect. When compared to all of eternity, even a lifetime of suffering would be over in the blink of an eye. Suffering, no matter how severe, is temporary. It will pass.
Even in the midst of suffering, Jesus is there to comfort me. He knew that I would have to endure the trials of an earthly life. Therefore, He made the decision to do the same. He is my King, but he is also my brother. He knows and understands what it means to suffer as a human being, and thus He possesses the ability to shepherd me through any hard times I encounter.
But even more importantly, as the King, He has the ability to guarantee me entry into the Kingdom that is not of this world, His eternal Kingdom where suffering is no longer present, no longer possible.
The promise of the Kingdom is eternal bliss. Suffering is nothing more than a bump on the road that leads to that bliss.
I will suffer gladly, even joyfully, knowing that the doors of the Kingdom are open to me as a result.
OFS Ongoing 