Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Francis Beckham, OHC
The Second Sunday after Pentecost, June 22, 2025
Click here for an audio of the sermon
“Most High, glorious God, enlighten the darkness of my heart, and give me true faith, certain
hope, and perfect charity, sense and knowledge, Lord, that I may carry out Your holy and true
command. Amen.” (The Prayer before the Crucifix, 1205/1206)
In the words of this simple prayer, uttered before the crucifix of the crumbling church of San Damiano near Assisi, Italy, in about the year 1205, Saint Francis gave voice to a new desire that was taking hold within him: namely, to offer himself completely and absolutely to God.
hope, and perfect charity, sense and knowledge, Lord, that I may carry out Your holy and true
command. Amen.” (The Prayer before the Crucifix, 1205/1206)
In the words of this simple prayer, uttered before the crucifix of the crumbling church of San Damiano near Assisi, Italy, in about the year 1205, Saint Francis gave voice to a new desire that was taking hold within him: namely, to offer himself completely and absolutely to God.
By asking to be emptied of everything that was not really him at all – that is, of all his
worldly thoughts, fleshy desires, and his prideful will – Francis would at last be free to
become the person he was truly meant to be, the real Francis who had been made by God for
the exact purpose each and every one of us has been created: to use our whole beings to love, and be loved by, God. To be fully human involves nothing less than this.
Francis, who was around twenty-four at the time, was just emerging from a period of
profound personal conversion. Having only recently recovered from a severe illness preceded by a failed military expedition involving a mysterious vision, this charming, handsome playboy son of a wealthy cloth family, the “King of Youth” as he had been known in Assisi, had now rejected his privilege and patrimony – even his family name – and become the penniless “Fool of God.”
worldly thoughts, fleshy desires, and his prideful will – Francis would at last be free to
become the person he was truly meant to be, the real Francis who had been made by God for
the exact purpose each and every one of us has been created: to use our whole beings to love, and be loved by, God. To be fully human involves nothing less than this.
Francis, who was around twenty-four at the time, was just emerging from a period of
profound personal conversion. Having only recently recovered from a severe illness preceded by a failed military expedition involving a mysterious vision, this charming, handsome playboy son of a wealthy cloth family, the “King of Youth” as he had been known in Assisi, had now rejected his privilege and patrimony – even his family name – and become the penniless “Fool of God.”
The main event in his conversion had been an encounter he’d had with a leper on the road outside of the city walls, in whom he had recognized not an object of fear as he previously would have done, but instead the very person of Christ. Francis’ response was to show mercy to the poor soul. And with that, he could no longer look at anyone ever again without seeing the face of God. Now, as he knelt before the altar of San Damiano, he could hardly know all the remarkable things the future had in store for him, things far greater than the glorious knighthood he’d always dreamed about for himself. But, in that moment of surrender, he had all he needed: complete faith in God’s loving mercy.
The conversion of Saint Francis has always been very special to me, and I couldn’t help
thinking of it as I reflected on this morning’s readings. Much like Elijah, Francis was finally
ready to say yes to God only because he had finally become aware of his complete
dependence on God. Both had to be shaken from sleepful complacency in order to
understand just how utterly not in control they actually were. Similar to Francis, Elijah had
also been acting as he thought he was supposed to, which in his case meant being a prophet
and demonstrating God’s true power and authority in Canaan. But now, after believing he
had achieved his purpose, he finds himself alone in the wilderness, being hunted down like a
criminal. It’s no wonder he wants to give up, saying, “It is enough.” But God doesn’t give up.
Through more than a little persistence (faithfulness, really), God leads Elijah from his sleep
beneath the broom tree to the top of Mount Horeb, the very place where Moses had
experienced his own theophany, where God is finally revealed to him in a sound of sheer
silence. Definitely not what he had been expecting.
We see another, and, in my opinion, profoundly touching, example of God’s particular love
for outcasts in today’s Gospel reading. As we’ve heard, the Gerasene Demoniac (let’s call
him Gerasene Guy, since no one should be defined by their challenges) faces a set of
absolutely heartbreaking circumstances. Although Elijah’s life and credibility as a prophet
are at stake, Gerasene Guy is in danger of losing all connection with something far more
fundamental: his very personhood. For a while now, he’s been existing not as a living human
being, made in the likeness and image of God, but as essentially a zombie. Devoid of
everything we associate with humanity, including family and community, clothing, and even
his reasoning, he’s instead been cast entirely outside of the social order. No longer seen as
acceptable to society and continually tormented by demons, he is for all points and purposes,
dead. (Incidentally, this is exactly how the lepers of Saint Francis’ time were looked upon;
there was even what was essentially a funeral liturgy for the newly diagnosed.)
But, even for all that, Gerasene Guy is not truly dead. There still remains, deep within him, a
spark of the Divine and, thus, of the human as well. As Jesus and his companions near the
shore in their boat, the Divine force within Gerasene Guy awakens. Then, as his human
heart, restless and long-tormented, recognizes the one sent by his Source, he goes to meet
him, and throws himself at Jesus’ feet. I can only imagine the anguish, fear, and, perhaps,
even the tiny bit of hope, he must have felt in that moment. And Jesus – understanding that
the demons are not the person – actually sees him, sees both the humanity and the divinity
within Gerasene Guy, and uses his power to cast out from him that which is not really him at
all. As he would inspire Saint Francis to do twelve-hundred years later, Jesus shows love to
the marginalized by first showing mercy.
While this doesn’t necessarily result in the best outcome for the swine, it does do something
amazing for Gerasene Guy: it makes him truly human and whole again. In fact, he has gone
from screaming and throwing himself before Jesus as a demoniac to sitting at his feet as a
disciple, dignified, clothed, and in his right mind. When people who know him – or, perhaps
more accurately, who think they know about him – see this, it fills them with fear because,
for the first time in years, Gerasene Guy is fully and undeniably human; but unfortunately,
they’ve lost the ability to see him as anything other than what they’ve decided he is. I must
admit that this forces me to consider how often I allow my own ideas about others to blind
me to their true humanity.
Naturally, Gerasene Guy wants to join Jesus on his mission, but Jesus – rightly recognizing
the need for people to understand the truth about what they had seen – tells him to return to
his long-forgotten home and practice his discipleship there, among his own people,
recounting what God had done for him. After all, the Gospel isn’t going to be spread very far
if all of Jesus’ disciples insist on clinging to their Teacher.
So, for Elijah to understand God’s purpose for him, he first needed to be woken by an angel,
drawn through the wilderness, and taken up a holy mountain. Gerasene Guy had to be brave
and run toward Jesus, who showed him mercy, made him a disciple, and told him to return
home to proclaim the reign of God to people who had so long feared him. And, of course,
Saint Francis could only become a living witness of the Gospel once he had been purged of
his love of the world’s vanities by coming to despise what he had once loved, and to love
what he had so feared. God never fails to favor most highly those who have dwelt in the
lowest places.
As I’m sure is true for all of us, there have been plenty of times when I’ve been so certain of
my own plans, ideas, and actions, only to watch them go up in smoke, leaving me to wonder
what else I’m wrong about and where in the world I’m going to go from here. True, none
were ever as serious has having to risk my life defending the worship of the God of Israel
over Baal Peor; or proclaiming the healing message of an itinerant Jewish preacher amongst
a community that had once cast me out for being full of demons; or even renouncing my
inheritance and every form of comfort and security for the sake of the Gospel. No, mostly
I’ve simply failed to recognize my complete reliance on God, and to see how much more
lifegiving it is just to live boldly into the simple events of everyday life.
Elijah, Gerasene Guy, and Saint Francis all bear witness to the fact that there are no
insignificant lives. And nothing – and no one – in our lives is truly insignificant either. In
fact, as our readings today show us, one of the most amazing truths of the human experience
is God’s never-failing preference for using the least likely people to achieve the most
extraordinary things. This ought to be a reminder to all of us that, though we can sometimes
feel hugely discouraged and ineffective within our chaotic and unjust world, our efforts –
even our most flawed efforts – at being bearers of the Gospel are revolutionary and holy acts.
Having begun this reflection with Saint Francis’ initial prayer of self-offering alone before
the crucifix, I’d like to close with a prayer written by him some twenty years later, after God
had sent him thousands of brothers, more than a few hardships, and many, many more
blessings. And as he asked the grace for him and his companions to know their dependence
on God in showing mercy and proclaiming the Gospel, may it be so for all of us today:
“Almighty, eternal, just, and merciful God: give us miserable ones the grace to do for You
alone what we know you want us to do and always to desire what pleases You. Inwardly
cleansed, interiorly enlightened and inflamed by the fire of the Holy Spirit, may we be able
to follow in the footprints of Your beloved Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, and, by Your grace
alone, may we make our way to You, Most High, Who live and rule in perfect Trinity and
simple Unity, and are glorified God almighty, forever and ever. Amen.” (A Letter to the
Entire Order, 1225-1226.)
The conversion of Saint Francis has always been very special to me, and I couldn’t help
thinking of it as I reflected on this morning’s readings. Much like Elijah, Francis was finally
ready to say yes to God only because he had finally become aware of his complete
dependence on God. Both had to be shaken from sleepful complacency in order to
understand just how utterly not in control they actually were. Similar to Francis, Elijah had
also been acting as he thought he was supposed to, which in his case meant being a prophet
and demonstrating God’s true power and authority in Canaan. But now, after believing he
had achieved his purpose, he finds himself alone in the wilderness, being hunted down like a
criminal. It’s no wonder he wants to give up, saying, “It is enough.” But God doesn’t give up.
Through more than a little persistence (faithfulness, really), God leads Elijah from his sleep
beneath the broom tree to the top of Mount Horeb, the very place where Moses had
experienced his own theophany, where God is finally revealed to him in a sound of sheer
silence. Definitely not what he had been expecting.
We see another, and, in my opinion, profoundly touching, example of God’s particular love
for outcasts in today’s Gospel reading. As we’ve heard, the Gerasene Demoniac (let’s call
him Gerasene Guy, since no one should be defined by their challenges) faces a set of
absolutely heartbreaking circumstances. Although Elijah’s life and credibility as a prophet
are at stake, Gerasene Guy is in danger of losing all connection with something far more
fundamental: his very personhood. For a while now, he’s been existing not as a living human
being, made in the likeness and image of God, but as essentially a zombie. Devoid of
everything we associate with humanity, including family and community, clothing, and even
his reasoning, he’s instead been cast entirely outside of the social order. No longer seen as
acceptable to society and continually tormented by demons, he is for all points and purposes,
dead. (Incidentally, this is exactly how the lepers of Saint Francis’ time were looked upon;
there was even what was essentially a funeral liturgy for the newly diagnosed.)
But, even for all that, Gerasene Guy is not truly dead. There still remains, deep within him, a
spark of the Divine and, thus, of the human as well. As Jesus and his companions near the
shore in their boat, the Divine force within Gerasene Guy awakens. Then, as his human
heart, restless and long-tormented, recognizes the one sent by his Source, he goes to meet
him, and throws himself at Jesus’ feet. I can only imagine the anguish, fear, and, perhaps,
even the tiny bit of hope, he must have felt in that moment. And Jesus – understanding that
the demons are not the person – actually sees him, sees both the humanity and the divinity
within Gerasene Guy, and uses his power to cast out from him that which is not really him at
all. As he would inspire Saint Francis to do twelve-hundred years later, Jesus shows love to
the marginalized by first showing mercy.
While this doesn’t necessarily result in the best outcome for the swine, it does do something
amazing for Gerasene Guy: it makes him truly human and whole again. In fact, he has gone
from screaming and throwing himself before Jesus as a demoniac to sitting at his feet as a
disciple, dignified, clothed, and in his right mind. When people who know him – or, perhaps
more accurately, who think they know about him – see this, it fills them with fear because,
for the first time in years, Gerasene Guy is fully and undeniably human; but unfortunately,
they’ve lost the ability to see him as anything other than what they’ve decided he is. I must
admit that this forces me to consider how often I allow my own ideas about others to blind
me to their true humanity.
Naturally, Gerasene Guy wants to join Jesus on his mission, but Jesus – rightly recognizing
the need for people to understand the truth about what they had seen – tells him to return to
his long-forgotten home and practice his discipleship there, among his own people,
recounting what God had done for him. After all, the Gospel isn’t going to be spread very far
if all of Jesus’ disciples insist on clinging to their Teacher.
So, for Elijah to understand God’s purpose for him, he first needed to be woken by an angel,
drawn through the wilderness, and taken up a holy mountain. Gerasene Guy had to be brave
and run toward Jesus, who showed him mercy, made him a disciple, and told him to return
home to proclaim the reign of God to people who had so long feared him. And, of course,
Saint Francis could only become a living witness of the Gospel once he had been purged of
his love of the world’s vanities by coming to despise what he had once loved, and to love
what he had so feared. God never fails to favor most highly those who have dwelt in the
lowest places.
As I’m sure is true for all of us, there have been plenty of times when I’ve been so certain of
my own plans, ideas, and actions, only to watch them go up in smoke, leaving me to wonder
what else I’m wrong about and where in the world I’m going to go from here. True, none
were ever as serious has having to risk my life defending the worship of the God of Israel
over Baal Peor; or proclaiming the healing message of an itinerant Jewish preacher amongst
a community that had once cast me out for being full of demons; or even renouncing my
inheritance and every form of comfort and security for the sake of the Gospel. No, mostly
I’ve simply failed to recognize my complete reliance on God, and to see how much more
lifegiving it is just to live boldly into the simple events of everyday life.
Elijah, Gerasene Guy, and Saint Francis all bear witness to the fact that there are no
insignificant lives. And nothing – and no one – in our lives is truly insignificant either. In
fact, as our readings today show us, one of the most amazing truths of the human experience
is God’s never-failing preference for using the least likely people to achieve the most
extraordinary things. This ought to be a reminder to all of us that, though we can sometimes
feel hugely discouraged and ineffective within our chaotic and unjust world, our efforts –
even our most flawed efforts – at being bearers of the Gospel are revolutionary and holy acts.
Having begun this reflection with Saint Francis’ initial prayer of self-offering alone before
the crucifix, I’d like to close with a prayer written by him some twenty years later, after God
had sent him thousands of brothers, more than a few hardships, and many, many more
blessings. And as he asked the grace for him and his companions to know their dependence
on God in showing mercy and proclaiming the Gospel, may it be so for all of us today:
“Almighty, eternal, just, and merciful God: give us miserable ones the grace to do for You
alone what we know you want us to do and always to desire what pleases You. Inwardly
cleansed, interiorly enlightened and inflamed by the fire of the Holy Spirit, may we be able
to follow in the footprints of Your beloved Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, and, by Your grace
alone, may we make our way to You, Most High, Who live and rule in perfect Trinity and
simple Unity, and are glorified God almighty, forever and ever. Amen.” (A Letter to the
Entire Order, 1225-1226.)
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