In Praise of Autumn . . .

 

O God of Autumn loveliness, we come before you with hearts full of gratitude, recognizing the vibrant tapestry of colors that enrich our lives. The changing season brings forth a palette of hues—deep reds, hopeful greens, dazzling golds, and the comforting, weathered browns—all reminders of your abundant creativity and care.

We thank you, gracious God, for the richness that autumn bestows. The reds symbolize passion and warmth, the greens offer us hope for what is to come, the golds represent the depth and value found in our journey, and the browns speak of stability and endurance. Each color paints our lives with meaning, especially during this season of harvest when we gather together in celebration.

As we witness the transformation of the trees, we see our own stories mirrored in their cycles. Like leaves, we too are subject to the winds of change—sometimes blown far from where we began, sometimes warmed by the sun, sometimes battered by rain and storms. Yet through it all, we stand as testaments to lives well lived, shaped by both joy and adversity.

Your trees remind us, O God, of the importance of release and trust. Just as trees let go of their leaves to allow for new growth, we are called to embrace transformation, though it often comes with resistance. We cling to what is familiar—our colors, our comforts, our homes—yet you invite us to trust the process of change so that new life may emerge.

God of the Autumn, we ask you to release us from our attachments. Let your Spirit carry us to the places where we are most needed, and plant us where we can find true warmth and belonging. Help us to be deeply rooted in you, drawing our strength and purpose from your presence.

As we look around during this time of harvest, we rejoice in the abundance that surrounds us, both in the world and within our own hearts. We pray for continued gratitude for this plentifulness, for open hands to share what we have, and for willing spirits to give of ourselves freely and joyfully.

As we journey toward the winter season, may we nurture the spirit of springtime within us—a sign of enduring hope. We trust, O God of Transformation, that you see potential and promise in all of life. Prepare our hearts and steady our resolve so that we may respond to your call with unwavering faith and love.

(Source Unknown)

 

An Autumn Prayer . . .

 

A Prayer for Autumn Days

By Joyce Rupp

God of the seasons, there is a time for everything; there is a time for dying and a time for rising. We need courage to enter into the transformation process.

God of autumn, the trees are saying goodbye to their green, letting go of what has been. We, too, have our moments of surrender, with all their insecurity and risk. Help us to let go when we need to do so.

God of fallen leaves lying in colored patterns on the ground, our lives have their own patterns. As we see the patterns of our own growth, may we learn from them.

God of misty days and harvest moon nights, there is always the dimension of mystery and wonder in our lives. We always need to recognize your power-filled presence. May we gain strength from this.

God of harvest wagons and fields of ripened grain, many gifts of growth lie within the season of our surrender. We must wait for harvest in faith and hope. Grant us patience when we do not see the blessings.

God of geese going south for another season, your wisdom enables us to know what needs to be left behind and what needs to be carried into the future. We yearn for insight and vision.

God of flowers touched with frost and windows wearing white designs, may your love keep our hearts from growing cold in the empty seasons.

God of life, you believe in us, you enrich us, you entrust us with the freedom to choose life.  For all this, we are grateful. (From: May I Have This Dance?

·       How are you being invited to enter into transformation?

·       To what are you saying “goodbye” and entering a time of surrender, insecurity, and risk?

·       How are you aware of the patterns of growth that have been part of your life journey?  What have you learned from them?

·       Are you aware of God’s power-filled presence in your times of walking in mystery and wonder?

·       What does patience look like in your life?  Feel like? May you be blessed by its teaching.

·       Have you ever had to leave something behind while at the same time moving into a “holy newness” of the future? What insights and visions did you embrace?

·       Ask the God of the seasons to keep your heart from growing cold in the empty seasons.

·       God of life, we live, and move and have our being in you. We are grateful!

Francis, A Fiery Spirit . . .

 Dancing Francis

Viterbo University, La Crosse, WI

The Fiery Spirit of St. Francis of Assisi

There is a story from the Desert Fathers and Mothers in which Rabbi Lot approaches Rabbi Joseph and asks, “Rabbi, as much as I am able, I practice a small rule of life, all the little fasts, some prayer and meditation, and remain quiet, and as much as possible, I keep my thoughts clean. What else should I do?” In response, Rabbi Joseph rises, stretches his hands toward heaven, his fingers like torches of flame, and replies, “Why not be turned into fire?” This image of being set ablaze by faith perfectly introduces the life and legacy of St. Francis of Assisi.

Francis of Assisi: A Life Set Aflame

Today we celebrate Francis of Assisi, a man who not only became fire himself but ignited the world through his generosity, creativity, imagination, dedication to the poor, and radical adherence to the Gospel. Francis was known for his profound faith, deep prayer life, and abiding love for both God and all of creation. Many commentators have called Francis “a Second Christ,” recognizing his relentless efforts to imitate Jesus in every aspect of his life.

Francis was born in 1181 in the Tuscan countryside of Assisi, the son of a wealthy cloth merchant. His youth was marked by luxury and ease; he experienced little formal education and was largely preoccupied with leisure and enjoyment. In today’s terms, Francis would be counted among the bold and beautiful, the rich and famous, the young and the restless. He was popular, charming, the life of every gathering, talented in business, and also aspired to become a troubadour and poet. He was universally liked, always cheerful, a dreamer, and a natural leader.

At age twenty, Francis sought adventure as a knight and participated in a battle with a neighboring country. However, his townspeople lost, and Francis spent a year in prison. After his release and return to Assisi, he fell seriously ill and became dissatisfied with his former way of life. Enduring a spiritual crisis, he turned to solitude, prayer, and service to the poor.

One pivotal conversion experience occurred when Francis, while riding, encountered a leper begging for money. Despite his initial disgust and desire to avoid the leper, Francis soon had a change of heart. He returned, gave the man all his money, and kissed his hand. When Francis looked back, the leper had disappeared. From that moment, he dressed in rags and devoted himself to serving lepers and the poor.

Another turning point came as Francis prayed in the Church of San Damiano. There, he heard the voice of Christ from the cross say, “Francis, repair my church.” Receiving this mandate and inspired by the Gospel’s words—“The kingdom of God is at hand, cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, drive out devils; freely have you received, freely give. Carry neither gold nor silver nor money, nor bag, nor two coats, nor sandals…”—Francis embraced his vocation to preach to the poor.

Twelve companions soon joined Francis in his mission, sharing a literal interpretation of Christ’s command to own no property and to rely on God’s providence. Their task was to preach—“using words if necessary”—demonstrating God’s love through both their words and actions. Francis named their community the “Order of Friars Minor,” or “order of lesser brothers.” They aimed to live as true brothers to all, revealing by their love that every human being is a sister or brother. Francis did not retreat to a monastery but lived among the people, seeking and finding God in the world.

Francis’s spirituality was incarnational. He saw God as a loving Father and Creator, believed everything he had was a gift, viewed Christ as his Brother, and felt the Spirit’s love burning within him. Initially, their radical way of life—barefoot, dressed in rags, speaking of God’s love—startled people. Soon, however, the joy and celebration of life among these “barefoot beggars” became contagious.

An early biographer describes Francis’s appearance: “In stature he was rather on the short side, his head of moderate size and round, his face long, his forehead smooth and low, his eyes of medium size, black and candid, his hair dark, his eyebrows straight, his nose even-shaped, thin and straight, his ears prominent but delicate. In conversation he was agreeable, ardent and penetrating, his voice firm, sweet-toned and clearly audible, his lips delicate, his beard black and rather sparse, his neck slender, his shoulders straight, his arms short, his hands small, with long fingers, his feet small, his skin tender, his clothing rough, his sleep brief and his bounty most liberal.”

Francis’s brotherhood extended to all of God’s creation. He had a deep love for animals, especially birds, whom he called his brothers and sisters. In one story, Francis preached to hundreds of birds, encouraging them to thank God for their beautiful feathers, independence, and divine care. The birds remained still, listening attentively, and only flew away when Francis dismissed them.

Another well-known story tells of the wolf of Gubbio. Driven by hunger, the wolf attacked the townspeople, who became too frightened to work in their fields. Francis offered to speak with the wolf. Meeting the animal, Francis’s gentle approach calmed it, and he brokered a peace between the wolf and the people: they would feed the wolf, and in return, it would live peacefully among them.

In his final years, Francis endured great suffering. Longing to share in Christ’s passion, he received a vision and the stigmata—the marks of Christ’s wounds. Years of poverty and wandering left Francis in poor health. In his last months, blind and in pain, he composed the “Canticle of the Sun,” a joyful hymn praising God with all creation. He died at age 45, by which time several thousand friars across Europe carried on his mission. Francis was canonized two years after his death.

 

What does Francis’s life say to us today? First, he calls us to live with joy, simplicity, and faithfulness to the Gospel. We are encouraged to seek meaning and fulfillment in our relationship with God, even if it means looking foolish or changing our attitudes and behaviors.

Francis challenges us to examine our relationship with creation and to be advocates for the environment. His words inspire us: “Start by doing what's necessary; then do what's possible; and suddenly you are doing the impossible.”

Francis was called to “repair the church.” We are invited to live with integrity and courage, building a church characterized by inclusivity, compassion, forgiveness, and hope—so that the message and mission of Jesus may be revealed, using words if necessary.

Francis’s approach to suffering teaches us to seek grace in difficult times, trusting that God’s gentle and loving presence will bring us peace, healing, and courage.

By embracing poverty, Francis reminds us that all we have is a gift to be shared with others. We are guardians and stewards of creation, sisters and brothers to all.

In kissing the leper and taming the wolf, Francis invites us to confront our fears and seek courage and love to embrace the challenges in our lives. We are called to identify and address the “wolves” in our world—those hungers and fears in ourselves, our communities, and society—so that we may live with trust, justice, harmony, and peace. As Francis said, “While you are proclaiming peace with your lips, be careful to have it even more fully in your heart.”

 

Let us remember the words of the Responsorial Psalm, a fitting prayer for Francis and for us today:

Take care of me, God, I rely on you for safety. You are my destiny; my life is in your hands. Even in my sleep, God whispers to my heart. God is my constant companion, You will direct my steps…

A Franciscan Prayer for Peace

 

 

      Lord, make us instruments of your Peace.  In a world all too prone to violence and revenge, we commit ourselves to the Gospel values of mercy, justice, compassion, and love.

 

We will seek daily to promote forgiveness and healing in our hearts, our families, and our world. Where there is hatred, let us sow love; Where there is injury, let us cultivate peace.

 

Fear and distance prevent people from recognizing all as brothers and sisters; tensions lead to violence and mistrust; We will strive to honor the dignity that God places in each and every human person.

 

Grant that we may not seek to be understood as to understand; To be loved as to love. Our failure to understand the other can create exclusion in all its negative forms – racism, marginalization of those who are poor, sick, the immigrant; it can also create situations of domination, occupation, oppression and war.

 

We pledge to seek the way of solidarity, to create hearts, homes, and communities where all people will experience inclusion, hospitality, and understanding.

For it is in giving that we receive, in pardoning that we are pardoned and in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.

 

Let us Pray:

Lord God, create in us:

-the Capacity to hear and understand the voices of those who suffer from every form of violence, injustice, and dehumanization;

 

-the Openness to receive and honor people from other cultures, languages, religious traditions, and geographical regions;

 

-the Creativity to explore new ways of communication and dialogue through

music, poetry, performing arts, and the mass media;

 

-the Audacity to undertake the building of communities of forgiveness, healing,

and reconciliation.

To God who is above all and in all are the glory and the honor. Amen

(source/unknown)

photo: de

What's in a name?

 

Once upon a time a rare kind of teacher gave his class a pop quiz. Amongst the many questions there was one – the very last one – nobody was expecting: “What is the first name of the woman who cleans your classroom?”

Many of the bright students thought this was some kind of joke. Many had seen the cleaning lady and even bumped into her several times. She was tall, dark-haired and in her 50s. When the time was up, all students handed their quiz with all but the last question answered. Nobody knew her name.  Just before class ended, one student asked if the last question would count toward the quiz grade.

“Absolutely,” said the professor. “In your careers, you will meet many people. All are significant. They deserve your attention and care, even if all you do is smile and say “hello”.

Source | Unknown

Taming the Wolf Within . . .

 

At the time when St. Francis was living in the city of Gubbio, a large wolf appeared in the neighborhood, so terrible and so fierce, that he not only devoured other animals, but made a prey of men also; and since he often approached the town, all the people were in great alarm, and used to go about armed, as if going to battle. Notwithstanding these precautions, if any of the inhabitants ever met him alone, he was sure to be devoured, as all defense was useless: and, through fear of the wolf, they dared not go beyond the city walls.

St. Francis, feeling great compassion for the people of Gubbio, resolved to go and meet the wolf, though all advised him not to do so. Making the sign of the holy cross, and putting all his confidence in God, he went forth from the city, taking his brethren with him; but these fearing to go any further, St. Francis bent his steps alone toward the spot where the wolf was known to be, while many people followed at a distance, and witnessed the miracle.

The wolf, seeing all this multitude, ran towards St. Francis with his jaws wide open. As he approached, the saint, making the sign of the cross, cried out: “Come hither, brother wolf; I command thee, in the name of Christ, neither to harm me nor anybody else.” Marvelous to tell, no sooner had St. Francis made the sign of the cross, than the terrible wolf, closing his jaws, stopped running, and coming up to St Francis, lay down at his feet as meekly as a lamb.

And the saint thus addressed him: “Brother wolf, thou hast done much evil in this land, destroying and killing the creatures of God without his permission; yea, not animals only hast thou destroyed, but thou hast even dared to devour men, made after the image of God; for which thing thou art worthy of being hanged like a robber and a murderer. All men cry out against thee, the dogs pursue thee, and all the inhabitants of this city are thy enemies; but I will make peace between them and thee, O brother wolf, is so be thou no more offend them, and they shall forgive thee all thy past offences, and neither men nor dogs shall pursue thee anymore.”

Having listened to these words, the wolf bowed his head, and, by the movements of his body, his tail, and his eyes, made signs that he agreed to what St. Francis said. On this St. Francis added: “As thou art willing to make this peace, I promise thee that thou shalt be fed every day by the inhabitants of this land so long as thou shalt live among them; thou shalt no longer suffer hunger, as it is hunger which has made thee do so much evil; but if I obtain all this for thee, thou must promise, on thy side, never again to attack any animal or any human being; dost thou make this promise?”

Then the wolf, bowing his head, made a sign that he consented. Said St. Francis again: “Brother wolf, wilt thou pledge thy faith that I may trust to this thy promise?” and putting out his hand he received the pledge of the wolf; for the latter lifted up his paw and placed it familiarly in the hand of St. Francis, giving him thereby the only pledge which was in his power. Then said St. Francis, addressing him again: “Brother wolf, I command thee, in the name of Christ, to follow me immediately, without hesitation or doubting, that we may go together to ratify this peace which we have concluded in the name of God”; and the wolf, obeying him, walked by his side as meekly as a lamb, to the great astonishment of all the people.

Now, the news of this most wonderful miracle spreading quickly through the town, all the inhabitants, both men and women, small and great, young and old, flocked to the market-place to see St. Francis and the wolf. All the people being assembled, the saint got up to preach, saying, amongst other things, how for our sins God permits such calamities, and how much greater and more dangerous are the flames of hell, which last forever, than the rage of a wolf, which can kill the body only; and how much we ought to dread the jaws of hell, if the jaws of so small an animal as a wolf can make a whole city tremble through fear.

The sermon being ended, St. Francis added these words: “Listen my brethren: the wolf who is here before you has promised and pledged his faith that he consents to make peace with you all, and no more to offend you in aught, and you must promise to give him each day his necessary food; to which, if you consent, I promise in his name that he will most faithfully observe the compact.”

Then all the people promised with one voice to feed the wolf to the end of his days; and St. Francis, addressing the latter, said again: “And thou, brother wolf, dost thou promise to keep the compact, and never again to offend either man or beast, or any other creature?” And the wolf knelt down, bowing his head, and, by the motions of his tail and of his ears, endeavored to show that he was willing, so far as was in his power, to hold to the compact. Then St Francis continued: “Brother wolf, as thou gavest me a pledge of this thy promise when we were outside the town, so now I will that thou renew it in the sight of all this people, and assure me that I have done well to promise in thy name”; and the wolf lifting up his paw placed it in the hand of St Francis.

Now this event caused great joy in all the people, and a great devotion towards St. Francis, both because of the novelty of the miracle, and because of the peace which had been concluded with the wolf; and they lifted up their voices to heaven, praising and blessing God, who had sent them St. Francis, through whose merits they had been delivered from such a savage beast.

The wolf lived two years at Gubbio; he went familiarly from door to door without harming anyone, and all the people received him courteously, feeding him with great pleasure, and no dog barked at him as he went about. At last, after two years, he died of old age, and the people of Gubbio mourned his loss greatly; for when they saw him going about so gently amongst them all, he reminded them of the virtue and sanctity of St. Francis. 

For Pondering:
• Who or what is the “wolf” in our cities, government, churches, or society today?
• What is our collective or personal response to those we fear because of how they dress, what they believe, or attitudes they may hold?
• Francis was a reconciler of enemies – what in us personally or collectively  that needs the grace of reconciliation?
• What are the hungers that we experience personally or collectively?  How do we pray for mercy, insight, guidance, and openness to divine healing?

Feast of Therese . . .

Jesus has no need of books or teachers to instruct souls; He teaches without the noise of words. Never have I heard him speak, but I feel he is within me at each moment.

He is guiding and inspiring me with what I must say and do. I find, just when I need them, certain lights that I had not seen until then, and it isn’t most frequently during the hours of prayer that these are most abundant, but rather in the midst of my daily occupations.
-St. Therese of Lisieux