Dawn

Friday, October 4, 2024 

Memorial of Saint Francis of Assisi 

(click here to listen to or read today’s scriptures)

Dawn 

If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand shall guide me, even there your right hand will hold me fast.

I think of stories I’ve read and movies I’ve seen, sermons I’ve heard from both birds and men reflecting on the simple beauty that was St. Francis. Is St. Francis. His reckless exploits as a youth mirror mine, and then, glistening in the hopeful eyes of a leper, he found Jesus. On that day and forever always after, his life became a sacrifice and gift to the savior he had heard of, but now he had seen.

The LORD addressed Job out of the storm and said: Have you ever in your lifetime commanded the morning and shown the dawn its place for taking hold of the ends of the earth, till the wicked are shaken from its surface?

Was it like this for Francis, who knew his own wickedness and therefore removed all his clothes and sought confession and penance from his Hometown Priest? He must have seen God’s wrath as well as his compassion, and knew he was lost. Woe is me, I am undone. But Francis, filled with tears forgot his fright, and then he only knew how much he loved his Loving Father.

The arm of pride is shattered.

Have you entered into the sources of the sea, or walked about in the depths of the abyss? Have the gates of death been shown to you, or have you seen the plunging depth of darkness? Have you, my servant Job, comprehended the breadth of the earth?

When I sleep the sweet simplicity of empty mind, quiet mind, surrounds me, enters me, holds me. In a few hours I awaken, too soon, just to pee, but the prayers I want to pray escape and I cannot fall asleep again. My need to control and create on my own seeps into me slowly at first, and then all in a rush, and my mind fails to find its quiet, so quickly gone. Breathing holds me together, but after twenty careful breaths I still flounder in the fused, frightening chaos. Monkey mind. On my jungle branch above the earth, I bare my teeth and laugh. Oh, Lord, help me!

Tell me, if you know all: Which is the way to the dwelling place of light, and where is the abode of darkness, that you may take them to their boundaries and set them on their homeward paths?

But Lord, I know nothing! I don’t even speak the language. The world you have created never belonged to me, and doesn’t now. The earth is the Lord’s and everything in it. Francis fell on his face in ecstatic despair, and God allowed him to return to earth, only with stigmata. His wounds saved him, removed his fear of God and renewed his love, but still his hands and feet forever after ached and bled. He died young.

Oh, but what a life! Preaching to the animals, this crazy man, loving his friends into becoming friars along with him, this wise man, living a life of silent poverty, asking only for enough food to subsist, preaching at any and all times, if possible without words, this man deriving innocence from his communing with the Lord and all that he has made.

Behold, I am of little account; what can I answer you? I put my hand over my mouth. Though I have spoken once, I will not do so again; though twice, I will do no more.

I lie in bed, resting, letting thoughts pass through my mind, flow like fish in an endless river. Miles and Jasper spent the night last week and we changed our night walk (too hot in Austin!) to a morning walk. They woke me at 6:09. It was dark outside, and chilly, and they carried their flashlights like weapons, holding off the night. But dawn came, and we made a shortcut and came home early, and ate cereal, and read books.

I have never known a day when dawn did arrive on time.

Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
In fact, dawn is out there now.

(Job 38, Psalm 139, Psalm 95, Luke 10)

(posted at www.davesandel.net)

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