The St. Katharine Drexel Region of the Secular Franciscan Order

St. Katherine Drexel Regional Fraternity

Regional Spiritual Assistant

St. Francis of Assisi Friary

1901 Prior Road

Wilmington, Delaware 19809

tel: (302) 798-1454       fax: (302) 798-3360       website: skdsfo       email: pppgusa@gmail.com

August 2026

Dear Sisters and Brothers in St. Francis,

The Lord give you His peace

Through the gift of His presence in the beauty of creation

And in the wonderful image and likeness

Of our Creator in each one of us!

The Canticle of the Creatures stands as one of the most enlightening gifts that Saint Francis of Assisi offered to the Church and to the world. It is not merely a poem celebrating the beauty of creation. It is the song of a man whose heart had been transformed by grace, purified through suffering, and enlarged by forgiveness. It was composed near the end of Francis’ earthly life when blindness, illness, misunderstanding, and physical weakness had become his daily companions. Humanly speaking, he had every reason to lament. Yet instead he praised. His song emerged not from comfort but from communion, not from success but from surrender. It teaches every Franciscan that genuine praise does not ignore suffering but embraces it through trust in the goodness of God.

Francis learned to see creation not as an object to possess but as a family to receive. Brother Sun, Sister Moon, Brother Wind, Sister Water, Brother Fire, Sister Mother Earth, and finally Sister Bodily Death were not poetic devices created for literary beauty alone. They were expressions of a profound spiritual vision. Francis no longer stood above creation as its master. He stood within creation as a brother. Everything that existed pointed beyond itself to the Creator, and everything reflected something of God’s generosity. To call the sun “Brother” and the earth “Mother” was not sentimentality. It was an acknowledgment that all creatures have their origin in the same loving Father.

Yet there is a remarkable movement within the Canticle that deserves particular attention. After praising the visible elements of creation, Francis unexpectedly turns toward human relationships. He blesses those who forgive. Praised be You, my Lord, through those who give pardon for Your love and bear infirmity and tribulation. This verse is not an interruption of the Canticle. It is its climax. The harmony of creation reaches its fullest expression when human beings are reconciled with one another. The beauty of the sun and the stars finds its fulfillment in the beauty of mercy. Francis understood that a fractured human heart cannot fully join the song of creation until it has learned forgiveness.

Forgiveness is therefore not simply one Christian virtue among many. It is the restoration of creation’s original harmony. Sin introduced division into the world. Humanity became separated from God, from one another, from creation, and even from itself. Every refusal to forgive deepens these fractures. Every act of mercy becomes a participation in God’s work of recreating the world. The Canticle invites us to hear that work taking place around us continually. Every sunrise proclaims the faithfulness of God. Every stream speaks of His generosity. Every gentle breeze whispers His tenderness. But perhaps the clearest proclamation of God’s presence is found whenever one wounded heart forgives another.

Francis did not write these words from theory. His entire life had become an apprenticeship in forgiveness. Long before he embraced lepers, rebuilt churches, or gathered companions around him, he had known the wounds of family conflict. His relationship with his father, Pietro Bernardone, remains one of the defining stories of his conversion. Pietro was a successful cloth merchant, ambitious for his son and eager that Francis should inherit both his business and his social standing. Francis, however, found himself increasingly captivated by another inheritance. The Gospel awakened within him desires that no earthly wealth could satisfy.

The conflict between father and son became public and painful. Pietro believed Francis had betrayed his family, squandered property, and dishonored the expectations placed upon him. Francis had sold cloth and given the proceeds to repair the Church of San Damiano. Pietro demanded restitution and sought legal judgment against his son. Before the bishop of Assisi, Francis did something extraordinary. He returned not only the money but even the clothes he wore. Standing naked before those assembled, he declared that from that moment he could say only, Our Father who art in heaven, for he no longer belonged to Pietro Bernardone but entirely to God.

This dramatic gesture has often been remembered as the moment of Francis’ radical poverty. Indeed, it was. Yet it must also be understood as an act of freedom from bitterness. Francis did not reject his father because he hated him. He surrendered everything because he wished to belong wholly to Christ. There is a profound difference between renunciation born of anger and renunciation born of love. Francis did not spend the remainder of his life condemning Pietro. He did not define himself by his father’s rejection. He did not carry resentment as a hidden possession after relinquishing every visible possession.

The temptation would have been understandable. Few wounds cut more deeply than those inflicted within families. The longing for parental approval remains one of the strongest desires of the human heart. To be misunderstood by one’s own father can become a lifelong burden. Yet Francis refused to allow that wound to become the center of his identity. His identity rested instead in being the beloved son of the heavenly Father. Because he discovered this deeper sonship, he became capable of forgiving the earthly father who had failed to understand him.

Forgiveness does not erase memory. Francis undoubtedly remembered every painful conversation, every accusation, every misunderstanding. Forgiveness transforms memory by removing the poison that would otherwise continue to flow from it. The past remains, but it no longer dictates the future. The wound remains visible, yet it becomes a place where grace is revealed rather than resentment.

The traditions surrounding the final years of Pietro Bernardone suggest that reconciliation did eventually occur. Whether every historical detail can be verified is less important than recognizing the unmistakable direction of Francis’ heart. Nothing in his life suggests lingering hostility. Everything points toward mercy. The man who embraced lepers, reconciled feuding civic leaders, and blessed those who forgave for love of God could hardly have excluded his own father from that mercy. Francis’ life itself became the commentary on the verse he later inserted into the Canticle.

This should speak powerfully to every Franciscan today. It is possible to profess poverty while remaining rich in resentments. It is possible to embrace simplicity while carrying complicated grudges. One may wear the habit, recite the Divine Office, serve the poor, and yet preserve old injuries within the heart. Francis would recognize such contradictions immediately. True poverty includes surrendering the illusion that we possess the right to nurse hatred. Forgiveness becomes one more form of evangelical poverty because it relinquishes our claim to revenge and entrusts justice to God.

The Canticle reminds us that creation itself never ceases giving. The sun does not withhold its light because humanity has sinned. The rain does not refuse the fields because people have become selfish. Water continues to serve. Fire continues to warm. Earth continues to nourish. All creation reflects the lavish generosity of God. Human forgiveness participates in that same divine generosity. We forgive not because others deserve it but because God continues pouring His goodness upon those who have not deserved it, including ourselves.

This does not make forgiveness easy. Francis never suggested that mercy ignores suffering. The verse about forgiveness is joined immediately to bearing infirmity and tribulation. The two belong together. Only those who have suffered know the true cost of forgiving. Cheap forgiveness denies pain. Christian forgiveness acknowledges pain fully while refusing to let pain have the final word. It is not passive resignation. It is active participation in the Cross of Christ.

Francis understood that the Crucified Lord remained the measure of every act of forgiveness. The one who prayed before the crucifix at San Damiano spent his life contemplating the God who forgave while being rejected. Christ did not wait until humanity became worthy before extending mercy. He loved first. He forgave first. Francis learned that every disciple must enter the same pattern. To forgive is to imitate the crucified Christ, whose love proved stronger than violence, betrayal, and death itself.

There is another dimension of forgiveness that Francis quietly teaches. Forgiveness also restores our ability to praise. Hearts consumed by resentment cannot truly sing. They may recite prayers, but their praise remains restrained by the weight of unresolved anger. The Canticle emerged from a heart that had become spacious enough to include every creature because it excluded bitterness. Praise and forgiveness belong together because both arise from gratitude. The forgiven person becomes forgiving. The forgiving person becomes joyful. The joyful person becomes capable of praising God in every circumstance.

Our contemporary world often encourages another path. We are taught to preserve grievances as badges of identity. Injuries become defining narratives. Social divisions deepen because forgiveness appears weak or unrealistic. Francis offers a radically different witness. Strength is revealed not through domination but through mercy. Freedom is found not in winning every conflict but in surrendering hatred. Peace begins not with changing others but with allowing Christ to heal our own hearts.

Franciscan fraternity depends upon this truth. No community can survive without forgiveness. Differences in personality, misunderstandings, failures, disappointments, and human weakness inevitably arise wherever people live together. The question is not whether conflicts will occur but whether mercy will be stronger than conflict. Francis knew this from experience. Even among his beloved brothers there were tensions and disagreements. Yet he continually recalled them to humility, mutual service, and reconciliation. The fraternity existed not because everyone was perfect but because everyone depended upon the mercy of God.

The same applies to the wider human family. When Francis crossed battle lines to meet the Sultan, he demonstrated that dialogue begins with seeing another person first as a fellow creature loved by God. Forgiveness creates the possibility of encounters that fear would otherwise prevent. It breaks the endless cycle in which injury produces retaliation and retaliation produces deeper injury. Mercy interrupts history’s habit of repeating violence.

As Franciscans contemplate the Canticle today, we may ask ourselves whether our praise extends as far as Francis’ praise. It is easy to bless God for beautiful sunsets. It is more difficult to bless Him through those who forgive. Yet Francis deliberately included them because he knew that reconciled humanity is among God’s most beautiful creations. Every act of forgiveness becomes another verse in the ongoing canticle of creation. Every restored relationship adds another harmony to the song of the universe.

Francis’ forgiveness of Pietro Bernardone becomes especially significant because it reveals that holiness begins close to home. It is easier to forgive humanity in the abstract than particular people whose words have wounded us deeply. The father who misunderstood him represented not merely one difficult relationship but the deepest personal trial of Francis’ early life. By forgiving there, Francis learned to forgive everywhere. The grace received in one relationship expanded until it embraced all creation.

The Canticle concludes by praising those who endure in peace and those whom Sister Death finds living in God’s grace. There is profound wisdom here. Death cannot frighten those who have already surrendered resentment. They have died daily to pride, vengeance, and possessiveness. They have learned that nothing truly belongs to them except the love they have received from God and shared with others. Such people can welcome Sister Death because they have already entered the freedom of the Kingdom.

Francis leaves us not simply with beautiful words but with a demanding invitation. He asks us to look upon creation with reverence, upon suffering with trust, upon enemies with mercy, and upon God with unending praise. He reminds us that forgiveness is not separate from contemplation but one of its highest expressions. The contemplative heart sees the world as God sees it, and God always sees beyond sin toward redemption. To forgive is therefore to participate in the very vision of God.

May we learn from Francis that every creature points us toward the Creator, every wound can become a place of grace, every relationship can be touched by mercy, and every act of forgiveness restores something of the original harmony for which creation longs. May we discover that the Canticle is not only a hymn to the beauty of the world but also a summons to become instruments of reconciliation within it. Then our lives, like the life of the Poor Man of Assisi, will become living songs in which Brother Sun shines more brightly because hatred has been relinquished, Sister Water flows more clearly because bitterness has been washed away, and every human heart becomes capable of joining the eternal praise of the Father through the Son in the joy of the Holy Spirit.

What a wonderful legacy we have been left in the charism of the Poverello of Assisi! If only we would realize the power that what we believe has in transforming each person! Charism is a “gift” that is freely given by God to envelop us with His love and encourage us to let go and let God lift us above and beyond the mundane and enter an experience that only grace can offer.

Peace and Blessings

Fr. Francis A. Sariego, O.F.M. Cap.

Regional Spiritual Assistant

NB-There is no reliable source to date that speaks of a formal forgiveness and acceptance of forgiveness between Francis and Pietro. Francis’ actions speak of a forgiveness granted by his interaction with all creation, people included, thus, even to his father who in the sources seems never to have formally asked or accepted forgiveness of his son.

St. Katherine Drexel Regional Fraternity Regional Spiritual Assistant

St. Francis of Assisi Friary

1901 Prior Road

Wilmington, Delaware 19809

tel: (302) 798-1454      fax: (302) 798-3360      website: skdsfo     email: pppgusa@gmail.com

 July 2026

Dear Sisters and Brothers in St. Francis of Assisi,

The meeting between Saint Francis of Assisi and Lucchesio and Buonadonna, often called Buona, occupies a treasured place in the Franciscan tradition. Whether every detail of the account has come down with complete historical precision or through the loving memory of the early fraternity, its spiritual truth has shaped the identity of the Secular Franciscans for more than eight centuries. In this encounter we see Francis discovering that the Gospel life entrusted to him was not intended only for friars living in community but was also meant for ordinary Christian men and women living in the world. It was a moment that expanded the horizons of the   Franciscan movement and revealed that holiness is possible in every state of life.

Lucchesio was a successful merchant from Poggibonsi in Tuscany. Like many prosperous merchants of his time, he had been deeply involved in business, trade, and the pursuit of wealth. His wife, Buona, shared his life and responsibilities. Their marriage reflected many of the ambitions common to the growing merchant class of medieval Italy. Success, financial security, social standing, and careful management of possessions occupied much of their attention. Yet beneath outward prosperity there remained a spiritual hunger that material success could never satisfy.

The age in which they lived was one of remarkable change. Commerce was transforming society. Towns were growing rapidly, wealth was becoming concentrated in new social classes, and people increasingly measured success by possessions and influence. At the same time, many Christians longed for a more authentic Gospel life. They admired the apostles and desired a simpler faith rooted in prayer, charity, and trust in God. Francis himself had experienced this longing after his conversion. Having abandoned wealth and status, he had embraced Lady Poverty and discovered an unexpected freedom. His joyful witness became impossible to ignore.

When Lucchesio and Buona encountered Francis, they were not simply meeting another religious teacher. They were meeting someone whose entire life testified to the possibility of radical trust in Christ. Francis possessed no wealth, sought no earthly honor, and exercised no political power. Yet people sensed an extraordinary authority in him because his words and actions were perfectly united. His poverty was not misery but freedom. His humility was not weakness but strength. His joy was not superficial happiness but the fruit of intimate friendship with God.

One of the remarkable aspects of the encounter is that Francis did not ask Lucchesio and Buona to abandon their marriage or separate from one another. In medieval spirituality, there could sometimes be an assumption that those who desired greater holiness should leave ordinary life for the monastery or religious community. Francis recognized something different. God had called this husband and wife together. Their marriage itself could become a path to sanctity.

This insight reveals Francis’ profoundly evangelical understanding of vocation. Holiness is determined not primarily by one’s external state in life but by faithful response to God’s call. Every baptized Christian receives the invitation to follow Christ. Some are called to priesthood, others to religious life, still others to marriage or the single state. None of these vocations is spiritually inferior. Each becomes holy through generous love.

Francis therefore did not attempt to make Lucchesio into a friar or Buona into a Poor Clare. Instead, he helped them become more fully what God had already called them to be. This approach demonstrated extraordinary wisdom. He understood that grace perfects rather than destroys the responsibilities God has already entrusted to us. Grace builds on nature (Thos.Aquinas).  The glory of God is the human person fully realized (St. Iraeneus).

The conversion of Lucchesio and Buona illustrates that authentic conversion always begins in the heart before it transforms external circumstances. They did not merely adopt new religious practices. Their entire way of seeing the world changed. Wealth became a means of serving the poor rather than increasing personal comfort. Their home became a place of hospitality instead of self-protection. Their marriage became a partnership in discipleship rather than simply a shared household.

Francis understood that possessions themselves are not the ultimate problem. The greater danger lies in allowing possessions to possess the human heart. Lucchesio gradually learned to hold material goods with open hands. Detachment allowed generosity to flourish. Charity replaced selfish accumulation. Simplicity replaced restless ambition.

Their transformation reminds Christians that conversion is rarely an isolated event. Rather, it unfolds gradually through countless daily decisions. Every act of forgiveness, every generous gift, every patient sacrifice, and every moment of prayer shapes the heart into the likeness of Christ. Francis encouraged precisely this daily conversion rather than dramatic displays of holiness.

Equally important was the effect of this encounter upon Buona herself. Too often medieval history focuses primarily upon male figures while overlooking the indispensable witness of holy women. Yet Buona was not merely the wife of Lucchesio. She freely embraced the Gospel life alongside her husband. Their vocation became mutual. They encouraged one another toward holiness.

This mutual sanctification reflects the deepest meaning of Christian marriage. Husband and wife are not simply companions through earthly life. They become fellow pilgrims helping one another reach eternal life. Every sacrifice offered for the other’s good becomes an act of worship. Every forgiveness granted becomes participation in Christ’s mercy. Every shared prayer strengthens the domestic church.

The witness of Lucchesio and Buona also teaches that holiness grows through ordinary faithfulness. They were not missionaries crossing distant lands or theologians writing profound books. They remained within society, interacting daily with neighbors, merchants, travelers, laborers, and the poor. Their sanctity emerged through ordinary relationships transformed by extraordinary charity.

Francis recognized that the world desperately needed holy lay people. Friars could preach in churches and marketplaces, but countless homes, workshops, businesses, and families required witnesses who lived permanently within those environments. Lay Franciscans would become the Gospel’s presence where friars could not remain.

This insight proved revolutionary. The Franciscan movement would eventually embrace three complementary expressions. Friars would proclaim the Gospel through itinerant preaching and fraternity. Poor Clares would sustain the Church through contemplative prayer. Secular Franciscans would sanctify ordinary society by living the Gospel within family life, professional work, civic responsibility, and daily relationships. Together these vocations revealed the fullness of Franciscan spirituality.

The encounter therefore transformed not only one married couple but also the future of the Franciscan family. Without holy lay followers, Franciscan spirituality might have remained confined within monasteries and friaries. Instead, it entered villages, cities, marketplaces, farms, homes, and every corner of society.

Another important dimension of this meeting is the relationship between contemplation and action. Francis never separated prayer from charity. Lucchesio and Buona learned that love of God naturally overflows into love of neighbor. Their prayer deepened their generosity. Their generosity enriched their prayer. Each strengthened the other.

This balance remains essential today. Prayer without service can become self-centered. Service without prayer can become exhausting activism. Francis invited his followers to unite both dimensions so that every act of charity springs from communion with Christ.

The simplicity embraced by Lucchesio and Buona did not mean neglecting responsibilities. Rather, simplicity reordered priorities. God came first. Family became sacred. Work became honest service. Wealth became stewardship. Time became a gift rather than a possession. Every aspect of life acquired new meaning because Christ occupied its center.

The fruits of this transformation extended beyond their own household. Neighbors observed changed behavior. The poor experienced unexpected generosity. Conflicts diminished. Hospitality increased. Their witness became a quiet but powerful form of evangelization.

Francis understood that the credibility of the Gospel depends less upon eloquent speeches than upon transformed lives. People may question theological arguments, but genuine charity possesses undeniable persuasive power. A peaceful family, an honest merchant, a forgiving spouse, and generous hospitality preach the Gospel every day.

The encounter also demonstrates Francis’ remarkable gift of spiritual discernment. He did not impose identical practices upon everyone. Instead, he recognized each person’s unique vocation. Some were called to radical itinerant poverty. Others served Christ within established responsibilities. Unity did not require uniformity.

This flexibility has remained one of the enduring strengths of Franciscan spirituality. Its essential principles remain constant while their expression adapts to different circumstances. Every age presents new challenges, yet the Gospel remains unchanged. Francis taught people to discover how eternal truths illuminate contemporary life.

For the Secular Franciscan tradition, Lucchesio and Buona became enduring symbols of lay holiness. They remind every professed Secular Franciscan that profession is not a lesser imitation of religious life but a genuine vocation within the Church. The secular vocation possesses its own dignity, responsibilities, and mission.

The effects of their encounter continue into the present. Across centuries, countless married couples, single adults, widows, widowers, professionals, laborers, teachers, physicians, artisans, farmers, and countless others have discovered through the Secular Franciscan vocation that ordinary life can become extraordinary through faithful discipleship. They have demonstrated that workplaces can become places of ministry, homes can become schools of charity, and daily responsibilities can become offerings pleasing to God.

Modern society resembles the commercial world in which Lucchesio first lived. Success is frequently measured by productivity, income, influence, and possessions. Many people experience exhaustion from endless competition and consumerism. Francis still speaks through the witness of Lucchesio and Buona, reminding Christians that true fulfillment comes not through acquiring more but through loving more.

Their example challenges contemporary Christians to examine their own attachments. What occupies our thoughts? What determines our decisions? What gives us security? Francis gently directs every disciple back to Christ as the only lasting treasure.

Their story also reveals that authentic reform begins with individuals. Francis did not begin by attempting to change political structures or social institutions. He invited people to personal conversion. Converted individuals then transformed families. Renewed families strengthened communities. Renewed communities enriched the Church. The greatest revolutions in history often begin with quiet fidelity rather than dramatic public action.

Perhaps the deepest meaning of this encounter lies in the discovery that God’s call is always personal. Francis did not see merely a wealthy merchant and his wife. He saw beloved children of God capable of heroic holiness. He recognized possibilities hidden even from themselves. Through encouragement, example, and spiritual guidance, he helped awaken gifts already planted within their hearts by divine grace.

This remains the mission of every Christian mentor and spiritual guide. Rather than creating dependence, true spiritual leadership helps others discover God’s unique call. Francis pointed beyond himself toward Christ. His joy attracted others not because he sought followers for himself but because he desired every soul to know the love of God.

The meeting between Francis, Lucchesio, and Buona therefore stands as an enduring testimony to the universal call to holiness. It proclaims that sanctity belongs not only to monasteries and convents but also to kitchens, workshops, marketplaces, schools, offices, hospitals, and homes. Every place where Christ is loved becomes holy ground.

The effects of that encounter continue to echo through every generation of the Franciscan family. Whenever a married couple prays together, whenever a business owner acts honestly despite financial sacrifice, whenever a family welcomes the poor, whenever someone chooses simplicity over greed, forgiveness over resentment, or generosity over selfishness, the spirit of that first meeting lives again.

Francis did more than change the lives of Lucchesio and Buona. He revealed a vision of the Church in which every baptized person has a mission, every vocation has dignity, and every circumstance of life can become a path toward perfect charity. Their encounter became a seed planted in fertile soil. That seed grew into a worldwide Franciscan family whose branches extend across every continent and every walk of life. It continues to bear fruit wherever men and women discover that following Christ wholeheartedly does not always require leaving the world behind, but rather transforming the world from within through humility, joy, peace, mercy, simplicity, and faithful love.

The Church needs the witness of faith-filled committed witnesses today as much as ever. The Church needs lay men and women who are deeply rooted in prayer while fully engaged in the world. It needs people who bring the spirit of the Gospel into all walks of daily life in society. The Secular Franciscan vocation prepares ordinary Catholics to become extraordinary witnesses through the ordinary events of life.

In every age the Church needs people who remind the world that holiness is possible, that peace can overcome hatred, that mercy is stronger than revenge, and that love is greater than fear. The Secular Franciscan vocation continues to respond to this need. The brothers and sisters of our Secular Franciscan Family, through its unique place in the Church, its recognized canonical status, its lifelong profession, its strong spiritual foundation, and its faithful witness in everyday life, remains one of the Church’s great treasures.

St. Francis called himself and “idiota”. It was his “foolishness” that opened eyes and hearts to a treasure that only a fool for the sake of Christ (1 Corinthians 4: 10) could discover and be “foolish enough” to give it all to others, without ever losing more to give! Those who faithfully live this vocation become living signs of the Gospel, carrying the spirit of St. Francis into the heart of the world and helping all people see more clearly the face of Christ

Peace and Blessings

Fr. Francis A. Sariego, O.F.M. Cap.

Regional Spiritual Assistant

PS – It was time that we gave Lucchesio and BuonDonna a kind and grateful remembrance. Their desire and St. Francis’ prayer were realized in each other when our Seraphic Father vested them as the first “Tertiaries” of the Franciscan Family. Do you ever pray to them?

St. Katherine Drexel Regional Fraternity

Regional Spiritual Assistant

St. Francis of Assisi Friary

1901 Prior Road

Wilmington, Delaware 19809

tel: (302) 798-1454      fax: (302) 798-3360      website:  skdsfo     email: pppgusa@gmail.com

June 2026

Dear Sisters and Brothers in St. Francis,

The Lord bless you with His peace!

St. Francis of Assisi stands in Christian history as one of the most luminous witnesses to the mystery of God’s self‑sacrificing love, a love that finds its most concentrated and symbolic expression in the devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Although Francis lived centuries before the formal development of the Sacred Heart devotion, his life, spirituality, and writings reveal a profound intuitive grasp of the same truth: that the Heart of Christ is the burning center of divine charity, poured out for humanity in total self‑giving. To contemplate Francis is to contemplate a man who allowed himself to be shaped entirely by the love that flows from the pierced Heart of the Savior, and to contemplate the Sacred Heart is to contemplate the divine source that animated Francis’s radical poverty, humility, and compassion. The two themes, therefore, are not separate but mutually illuminating, each revealing the depth of the other.

Francis’s journey begins with his encounter with the crucified Christ, an encounter that transformed him from a pleasure‑seeking youth into a man consumed by the desire to imitate Jesus in every aspect of life. The moment before the San Damiano crucifix, when Francis heard the words Rebuild my Church, marks not only the beginning of his mission but also the beginning of his lifelong immersion into the mystery of Christ’s suffering love. The crucifix he prayed before depicted Christ not in agony but in serene majesty, yet still wounded, still offering himself. This image profoundly shaped Francis’s understanding of divine love: a love that suffers, a love that gives itself without reserve, a love that remains open even when pierced. In this sense, Francis’s spirituality already contains the essential elements of the Sacred Heart devotion, which centers on the wounded yet radiant Heart of Jesus as the symbol of God’s boundless mercy.

The Sacred Heart is, at its core, a revelation of God’s interior life. It is not merely a symbol of emotion but a symbol of the divine will to love, even unto death. When Jesus’ Heart is pierced on the cross and blood and water flow out, the Gospel of John presents this as the culminating moment of salvation, the moment when Christ’s love is fully revealed. Francis, who meditated constantly on the Passion, understood this intuitively. His writings show a man who saw in the crucified Christ the very definition of love. He urged his followers to look at the humility of God and to contemplate the One who gives Himself entirely in the Eucharist and on the cross. For Francis, the cross was not simply a historical event but a living reality, a present outpouring of divine love that demanded a response of total surrender.

This surrender took the form of radical poverty, which Francis embraced not as an ideology but as a way of participating in Christ’s self‑emptying. The Sacred Heart devotion emphasizes the emptying (kenosis) of Christ, the self‑emptying love that led Him to take on human flesh and to endure suffering for the sake of humanity. Francis’s poverty mirrors this divine kenosis. By stripping himself of possessions, status, and even personal security, Francis sought to imitate the humility of Christ, who though he was rich, became poor for our sake (2Corinthians8:9). Poverty for Francis was not deprivation but freedom—the freedom to love as Christ loves, without clinging to anything. It was a way of making space in his own heart for the love that flows from the Heart of Jesus.

Francis’s love for the poor, the sick, and the marginalized also reflects the compassion of the Sacred Heart. The Heart of Jesus is often depicted as aflame, surrounded by thorns, and pierced, signifying both the intensity of divine love and the pain that love endures. Francis lived this compassion in concrete ways. His embrace of the leper, which he once found repulsive, became a turning point in his conversion. In the leper, Francis encountered Christ Himself, and in that encounter he discovered that true love requires vulnerability, sacrifice, and the willingness to suffer with others. This is precisely the message of the Sacred Heart: that God’s love is not distant or abstract but deeply involved in human suffering. The Heart of Jesus is wounded because it loves; Francis’s heart became Christ-like because he allowed himself to be wounded by the suffering of others.

The culmination of Francis’s conformity to Christ came in the stigmata he received on Mount La Verna. This extraordinary event, in which Francis bore in his own body the wounds of Christ, is perhaps the most striking parallel to the Sacred Heart devotion. The stigmata is not merely a physical phenomenon but a mystical union with the suffering love of Jesus. Francis did not seek the stigmata; he sought only to love Christ completely. The wounds were the divine response to that desire, a sign that Francis had become so united to the Heart of Jesus that he shared in the very marks of His love. The Sacred Heart, too, is a wounded heart, and the wounds are not signs of defeat but signs of love’s triumph. In Francis, the wounds of Christ become visible again in the world, reminding all who see him that divine love is not an idea but a reality that takes flesh.

The Sacred Heart devotion, which developed more fully in the centuries after Francis, especially through the visions of St. Margaret Mary Alacoque, emphasizes reparation for sin and the call to love Christ in return for His love. Francis lived this long before it was articulated. His life was a continual act of reparation, not in a punitive sense but in a relational one. He sought to console the Heart of Jesus by loving Him with purity, by living the Gospel without compromise, and by drawing others into the same love. His preaching was not harsh or condemnatory but filled with joy, urging people to turn back to God because God is love. Francis understood that sin wounds the Heart of Jesus not because God is offended in a human sense but because sin separates us from the love that God longs to give. His mission, therefore, was to heal that separation by calling people to conversion, reconciliation, and peace.

The Sacred Heart also emphasizes the Eucharist as the living presence of Christ’s self‑sacrificing love. Francis’s devotion to the Eucharist was intense and reverent. He saw in the consecrated Host the same Christ who hung on the cross, the same Heart that continues to pour out love for humanity. He wrote with awe about the humility of God, who hides Himself under the appearance of bread and wine:

Let the entire man be seized with fear; let the whole world tremble;

let heaven exult when Christ, the Son of the Living God,

is on the altar in the hands of the priest.

O admirable height and stupendous condescension!  O humble sublimity! O sublime humility!

that the Lord of the universe, God and the Son of God,

so humbles Himself that for our salvation He hides Himself under a morsel of bread.

For Francis, the Eucharist was not a ritual but a relationship, a moment of intimate union with the One who gives Himself entirely. This Eucharistic devotion aligns perfectly with the theology of the Sacred Heart, which sees the Eucharist as the sacrament of divine love, the place where the Heart of Jesus continues to beat for the world.

Francis’s Canticle of the Creatures, often seen as a hymn to nature, is also an expression of his understanding of divine love. He saw all creation as a reflection of the goodness of God, a goodness that flows from the divine Heart. The Sacred Heart devotion teaches that God’s love is the source of all life, sustaining and renewing the world. Francis’s joyful praise of Brother Sun, Sister Moon, and all creatures is rooted in his awareness that everything exists because it is loved by God. His ecological sensitivity, centuries ahead of its time, arises from his contemplation of the Creator’s love, a love that is generous, overflowing, and self‑giving.

The connection between Francis and the Sacred Heart becomes even clearer when considering his approach to peace and reconciliation. The Heart of Jesus is often invoked as the source of peace, a peace that comes from the healing of relationships, between God and humanity, and among people themselves. Francis embodied this peace in his interactions with others, including his famous meeting with the Sultan during the Crusades. He approached the Sultan not with hostility but with respect and openness, seeking dialogue rather than conflict. This attitude reflects the Heart of Jesus, who seeks to reconcile rather than divide, who loves even enemies, and who desires unity among all people. Francis’s peacemaking is therefore another expression of the divine love that flows from the Sacred Heart.

In contemplating Francis and the Sacred Heart together, one sees a profound harmony. Francis is, in a sense, the human echo of the divine Heart. His life makes visible what the Sacred Heart symbolizes: a love that gives everything, holds nothing back, and embraces all creation. The Sacred Heart reveals the inner life of God; Francis reveals what that love looks like when lived by a human being fully surrendered to grace. The two together offer a powerful vision of Christian discipleship, one that calls believers not merely to admire Christ’s love but to participate in it.

This participation requires transformation. The Sacred Heart devotion invites believers to allow their own hearts to be shaped by the Heart of Jesus, to become more compassionate, more humble, more willing to sacrifice for others. Francis shows that this transformation is possible. He was not born a saint; he became one through continual conversion, through daily choices to love, forgive, and serve. His example challenges modern Christians to examine their own lives and to ask whether they are allowing the love of Christ to penetrate their hearts. The Sacred Heart is not a distant ideal but a living reality that seeks to enter the human heart and make it new.

In a world marked by violence, division, and indifference, the message of the Sacred Heart and the example of St. Francis are urgently needed. They remind us that love is not weakness but strength, that humility is not humiliation but freedom, and that sacrifice is not loss but gain. The Heart of Jesus continues to beat with love for humanity, and Francis continues to inspire those who seek to follow Christ more closely. Together, they offer a path toward healing, reconciliation, and peace, a path that begins in the heart and radiates outward into the world.

May the gentle spirit of our Seraphic Father St. Francis of Assisi and our Holy Mother St. Clare of Assisi guide our hearts in peace and trust. In the Sacred Heart of Jesus, may we all find strength, healing, and renewed hope. In that Heart opened for love of us, may we enter the loving embrace of the Father’s Love and be filled with the gifts of His Holy Spirit to be Pilgrims of Hope in our world.

You and your loved ones will be remembered in my prayers each day. Your intentions will also be with me during Mass. May God’s tender love and mercy surround us all.

Peace and Blessings

Fr. Francis A. Sariego, OFM Cap

Regional Spiritual Assistant