One of the things I very much enjoy is reading stuff written by my friends. Some of my friends are former students. Others are folks I have befriended over the decades. When I read their thoughts, I sometimes know how they are thinking It is like being in a conversation. Perhaps even more so with writing, you can almost be in their brain while they are thinking. Often I know them so well, I can imagine when they might have stopped in mid-sentence, looking for the right word or phrase.
A recent piece I read by my Franciscan friend, Dan Horan, was particularly interesting. I know Dan is working on a new book about Franciscan spirituality. As you may know, Franciscan spirituality is the way of thinking and acting in the spirit of St. Francis of Assisi, the thirteenth century Italian whose misadventures as a young person led to his encounter with God whose presence radically turned around Francis’ life. He founded a religious order that was grounded in what is known as evangelical poverty. His goal was to imitate the life of Jesus, as he understands it. At the core of this life was the poverty Jesus chose.
I have always sensed a real spiritual connection with Franciscans. I think my own Quaker gang has much in common. When we talk about simplicity, I see it as having some similar features as evangelical poverty. Of course, Quakers are not monks like the Franciscans (although they are not technically monks). But we all know that you don’t have to be a monk to be a disciple. To be a disciple is to choose to follow in the path of Jesus. We become students and practioners of that way of life.
There were many people in the medieval period and today who have been influenced by Francis. One of those earlier folks was St. Angela of Foligno, another Italian. Dan writes a lovely essay about her and her spirituality, some of which I would like to share. Most folks have never heard of her. And that’s too bad. She has much to offer, as Dan points out.
Angela was in her early 40s when she had a conversion. Through the process, she was influenced by Francis and let him and his spirituality guide her in her own development. She spent a little time in Assisi, the home-base of Francis, and then returned a few miles away to Foligno, her hometown. Angela was given to mystical experiences. She has powerful experiences of God’s immediate, direct presence. We have the benefit of her accounts and reflections. What attracts me to her is the fact that she is otherwise a rather ordinary woman. She is not a nun. She is a wife and mother. She has much in common with most of us!
Let’s look at some of her experience. In one place she says the Holy Spirit spoke directly to her. “My daughter, my dear and sweet daughter, my delight, my temple, my beloved daughter, love me, because you are very much loved by me; much more than you could love me.” I appreciate the care and concern of this spiritual language. I like the pile of phrases the Spirit uses to describe her---daughter, delight, temple. Each of these is an image, which could be unpacked and analyzed.
Clearly, the theme here is love. I am drawn to that. We know that the Fourth Evangelist, John, talks about God as love. Love is at the heart of the universe. It is the “why” of all things. Of all the things in the world we might deem important, probably love would be at the top of the list. If one truly knew that you were loved, that is as good as it gets. There is no question whether Angela knew she was loved.
Another feature of Angela’s experience was the grace of God. Grace is gift. It is acceptance. It is as aspect of love. Angela tells us about grace in a wonderful passage. She says, “Thus illuminated by the gift of divine grace, one sees the goodness of God. Then all doubt concerning God is immediately taken away, and one loves God totally; and loving with this love one performs works in accordance with this love, and then all self-reliance is taken away.” I am intrigued that Angela understands grace illumines. It shows us the way. Notice how she links grace and love. Illumined by grace, the doubt goes away and we discover that we can love God totally. And then, this same love illumines and energizes the loving way we go into our ministry. Much could be said here.
In a wonderfully delightful phrase, Angela tells us “the world is pregnant with God.” That’s quite an image. My friend Dan offers his commentary. The comment by Angela “is a prayerful recognition of the theological truth that God not only comes to us from without, but that God touches the depths of our existence from within. One can hear the echoes of St. Augustine's famous observation that ‘God is the one who is closer to us than we are to ourselves.’”
I find it truly moving that God touches us at our deepest. It affirms God is within, as well as vastly without in the universe. This is what the fourth-fifth century saint, Augustine, is trying to articulate. We don’t have to go somewhere to discover God---not Assisi, Rome or Jerusalem. We only have to go within. God is closer to us than we can imagine---ready to illumine by grace.
Those of us who have read theology or, perhaps, those who are people of faith and are old enough might well recognize this title as a reminder of the late Jewish philosopher and theologian, Martin Buber. I remember reading Buber’s book, I and Thou , when I was in college in the 1960s. It was already a famous book by then. I am not sure I fully understood it, but that would not be the last time I read it. It has been a while since I looked at the book. Buber came up in a conversation with a friend who asked if I had seen the recent article by David Brooks? I had not seen it, but when I was told about it, I knew I would quickly locate and read that piece. I very much like what Brooks decides to write about and what he contributes to societal conversation. I wish more people read him and took him seriously. Brooks’ article focused on the 2016 contentious election. He provocatively suggests, “Read Buber, Not the Polls!” I think Brooks puts
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