Saint Francis

by Nikos Kazantzakis

  At that moment Father Silvester and the other brothers appeared on the threshold. They all knelt to kiss Francis' hand.

  "We have come to receive your blessing," said Father Silvester. "We are going out to preach the word of Christ as you have revealed it to us."

  "And where, God willing, do you plan to go?"

  "Wherever the road leads us, Brother Francis. Wherever God leads us. The entire earth is Christ's field, isn't it? We shall go out to sow."

  Francis placed his hand on each of their heads. "Go, my brothers, go with my blessing. Preach using words if you are able. But above all preach with your lives and deeds. What is it that stands higher than words? Action. What is it that stands higher than action? Silence. My brothers, mount the entire ladder that leads to God. Preach with words, preach with action, and afterwards, when you are alone, enter the holy silence which encompasses the Lord." Falling silent, he gazed lovingly at each of the brothers for a long time. It was as though they were going to the wars and he did not know if he should ever see them again.

  "Men's hearts are hard, they are stones," he said with a sigh. "But God is with you, so do not be afraid. Each time you are persecuted you shall say: 'We came to this world to suffer, to be killed, and to conquer!' What do you have to fear? Nothing. Whom do you have to fear? No one. Why? Because whoever has joined forces with God obtains three great privileges: omnipotence without power, intoxication without wine, and life without death."

  The brothers stood motionless and looked at him. They were saying goodbye without opening their mouths.

  "I too am departing, my brothers," continued Francis. "I am going out to preach salvation to rocks, wild flowers, and mountain thyme. The Day of Judgment is coming near, my brothers, so let us hurry. When it arrives it must find all men, animals, birds, plants, and stones prepared. Everything you see about you--the entire earth--must be prepared, ready to mount to heaven. What is heaven, my brothers, if not the entire earth, the same that we see about us--but virtuous!"

  "So please it God that our order may always follow the strait and narrow road," said Bernard. "Your road, Brother Francis."

  Sior Pietro prostrated himself, then touched Francis' knee. "A question has been bothering me for a long time, Brother Francis, and I didn't want to part with you before receiving an answer directly from your lips. How long,

  Brother Francis, is our order going to continue along this strait and narrow road?"

  "As long as the friars walk with bare feet," replied Francis. Then he fell silent, as did all of us.

  "The sun is already a full span above the horizon," said Father Silvester presently. He rose, and the others rose with him. "You are right, Brother Francis: we must hurry. . . . Farewell!"

  "God be with you!" replied Francis, and he traced the sign of the cross in the air above their heads.

  AFTER HE HAD SAID farewell to the brothers, Francis bent down and kissed the threshold of the Portiuncula; then he glanced all round him with his dimmed sight arid took leave of the birds, the trees, and the thorns, savory, thyme, and wild herbs along the ground--the humble plants which burgeoned each year round our aged mother, the Portiuncula.

  "In God's name, Brother Leo," he said, crossing himself, and we started on our journey.

  "Have you any idea where we're going?" I asked.

  "Why should I? The Lord knows, and that's enough. Haven't you ever seen a heliotrope, that yellow, radial plant which looks so much like the sun? It stares Brother Sun straight in the eye and obediently turns its face to follow his journey. Let us do the same, Brother Leo: let us keep our eyes fixed on God."

  The summer was nearly over; the earth reclined with an air of satisfaction, like a woman after childbirth. The fields had been reaped, the grapes vintaged; dark green, still- diminutive fruit already glistened between the leaves of the orange trees. The swallows were waiting for the cranes to come and take them away on their wings. A layer of thin, tender clouds blanketed the sky--rain had begun to approach from the mountain, and the soil was fragrant.

  Francis breathed in deeply. It was a long time since I had seen his face so relaxed. Climbing to the top of a knoll, we leaned for a moment against the crumbling wall of some ancient tower. I looked out at the plain below me. What serenity, what sweetness! You felt that the soil had performed its function and was now lying back, fully content.

  "It reminds me of a sacred icon I once saw in Ravenna," said Francis, turning to me; "part of the booty brought by the crusaders from Anatolia. They had set out to deliver the Holy Sepulcher, but as soon as they discovered Constantinople, flabbergasted by its riches and beauty they forgot all about Christ and fell upon the city. They burned it, slaughtered its inhabitants, pillaged its wealth, and then returned home with their spoils. This extraordinary icon, the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, was brought to Ravenna. And what a miracle it is, Brother Leo! The Mother of God reclining on her bed with crossed arms, her whole face smiling contentedly, and she has a purple wimple over her head, her aged hands are lined from household chores, her cheeks withered, her feet worn away by the stones and thorns of the ground. But you can see the smile of a hidden inner joy bubbling up out of her mouth and pouring over her chin, temples, and eyelids. She has done her duty and is tranquil. What duty? To give birth to the Savior of the world. . . . And now as I gaze upon this productive, tranquil plain, Brother Leo, I say to myself: In autumn the soil--the Virgin Earth-- sleeps in exactly the same way."

  We journeyed for many days, many weeks. Where were we going? Wherever God decided, for Francis refused to determine time or place: like the heliotrope, he was content to follow the face of God.

  "What happiness it is," he kept saying to me, "what joy not to have any will, not to say 'I,' but to forget who you are, what your name is, and to give yourself up with confidence to the puffs of God's wind! That is true freedom! If someone asks you who is free, Brother Leo, what will you reply? The man who is God's slave! All other freedom is bondage."

  One day we stopped in a tiny village. Francis tolled the ram's bell, and the men and women of the village assembled to hear him. They knew who this barefooted stranger was, for the knowledge of his miracles and his love for the noble Lady Poverty had reached this far. They too were poor; they too, without consciously willing it, were his disciples.

  Francis stepped up onto a rock. "What need is there for me to preach to you, my brothers," he said to them: "what need to show you the road which leads to Paradise? You have already taken this road, because you are poor and humble and illiterate, and you are hard workers, as it pleases God you should be."

  He fell silent. A crowd of restless swallows had gathered round him, perched on all the rooftops and upon a ruined tower. They must have been ready to depart, and were only waiting now for a suitable wind. Francis started to speak again, but the swallows began to flit here and there, descending a whole flock at a time on top of him and drowning out his voice with their chirping.

  "My brothers," he cried, struggling to be heard above the twittering all around him and above his head, "my brothers, our life here on earth is a deceptive dream. The true life, which is eternal, awaits us above in heaven. Do not regard the soil beneath your feet, but lift your eyes high, my brothers, open the cage where the soul thrashes itself, covers its bill with blood--and fly away!"

  Francis shouted himself hoarse, but the swallows had not the slightest intention of leaving him! Instead, new flocks gathered round him continually, warbling, peeping, refusing to go away. At last Francis turned to them. His voice was all sweetness and supplication: "My little brother swallows, I beg of you, let me have a turn to speak! You who carry spring to the world--O tiny, graceful carters of God--fold your wings for a moment, gather quietly on all sides, along the rooftops, and listen. We are talking here about God, the creator of swallows and men --about our common Father. If you love Him, if you love me, your brother, then be still! I see you are ready for the great journey to Africa--may the Lord be with you! But before you be
gin, it is fitting that you should listen to God's word."

  As soon as the swallows heard this speech they folded their wings and lined up in silence around Francis. Some perched on his shoulders; all directed their tiny round eyes toward God's crier and remained motionless, except that their intense joy made them flap their wings from time to time, as though they longed to dart into the sky an hour before the appointed moment. At the sight of this miracle the peasants, men and women alike, fell at Francis' feet.

  "Take us with you," cried the women. "We have no further use for our homes or husbands; we want the kingdom of heaven! We shall throw off our sandals, don the robe, and follow you to the death!"

  And the men, kissing Francis' feet and beating their breasts, cried, "We have no further use for our wives or fields; we too want the kingdom of heaven. Take us, Brother Francis, take us with you!"

  Francis was terror-stricken. What could he do with them, where could he take them, how feed them? And what would become of the population of the world if everyone became a monk or nun?

  "Wait, my brothers," he cried. "You misunderstood me. There isn't just a single road leading to heaven. The monk-- without wife, bread, home, or hearth--takes one road; the simple, pious believer another. He marries, has children, assures the continuance of the race. It isn't right--nor is it God's will--for the soil to be left unploughed and unsown by you, or for women to cease bearing children. For you, you who live in the world, God made sweet conversation, bread, the hearth, and honest cohabitation. I swear to you that by continuing in the way you are now living, you shall be able to reach the gates of heaven!"

  Many of the ploughmen grew angry.

  "First you light a fire for us and then you try your best to put it out. Either what you first told us is correct and we must renounce the world if we want to be saved--or it isn't. If this is the case, friend, leave us in peace. Go somewhere else!"

  "What you've done is dishonest--dishonest, monk!" shrieked the women, who were even more outraged than their husbands. "Like it or not we're coming with you! Women get into heaven as well as men, don't they? How did the Blessed Virgin manage? Well, you're not going to keep us out!"

  Francis clapped his hands in desperation. "Wait," he implored them, "wait, I shall come back. First distribute all your belongings to the poor; married couples, observe chastity; do not curse, do not let yourselves become angry; thrice daily fall on your knees all together and pray. A long preparation is required, my children. Make yourselves ready; I shall come!

  "I shall come, I shall come," he continued to shout as he departed from the village with immense strides. I raced behind him. In back of me were a dozen or so women and they had already begun to curse:

  "Impostor! Liar! Parasite! Swindler!"

  The first stones began to fly, but by this time we had succeeded in getting far enough away from the village. When it was no longer in sight we halted to recover our strength.

  "I think we were wrong, Brother Francis," I was bold enough to say. "You must tell each one only what he can support. Anything beyond is temptation."

  Francis sat down on a stone. He was lost in thought, and did not answer. I knew his mind was laboring, because I saw the veins swell at his temples and on his forehead. Sitting down opposite him, I waited. The village had bequeathed us several pieces of stale bread, some olives, and two bunches of grapes. I was famished.

  "Cross yourself and let's eat, Brother Francis," I implored. "Aren't you hungry?"

  But he, plunged deep in meditation, did not hear.

  "Brother Leo," he said after a long silence, "I pity the village where no one is a saint, but I also pity the village where everyone is a saint!"

  I had begun meanwhile to eat by myself, and to reflect at the same time upon all I had seen and heard in the village. The Tempter must have entered me, because I soon commenced to talk to myself, wearily, disgustedly. Since you say so yourself, Brother Francis, I reasoned, since it's possible to find God by taking the easy, level road, why then bother with the ascent and all its torments? The married man with his children, cottage, fields, his ample food: can he find God? You say Yes. So, let's get married, set up a household like everyone else, and live like men. We have only one purpose: to reach God. Why not reach Him strong and well nourished instead of worn-out and decrepit? In the awful state you're in, Brother Francis, how can you expect to present yourself before God the day after tomorrow? You remember what the pope said, don't you: 'What a stink! What pigsty did you come from?' Well, God will say the same! This was how I talked to myself, devouring huge mouthfuls in the process. I finished the first bunch of grapes, then pinched a good portion of the second. I swear to God if it hadn't been for the presence of Francis--how annoying!--I would have gone straight back to this village and gotten married on the spot. I had already seen a girl who struck my fancy. And it goes without saying I would have been a God- fearing husband and would have knelt in prayer three times a day--thirty times a day! But at the same time I would have advanced toward God at a reasonable pace, leisurely; and behind me I would have brought along my wife and children so that we could all enter Paradise together!

  Francis shifted his position. Lifting my eyes, I saw him and cringed. I felt I had committed a sin.

  But Francis smiled at me. "You are right, Brother Leo," he said. "The monk's life is oppressive. Not all men are able to support it, nor should they, because if they did the world would fall in ruins. Listen to how God enlightened me while I was sitting on this blessed stone. We are going to organize another order by the side of our strict one. This new order shall be softer, tractable enough so that no devout Christian who chooses to live in the world need be excluded. The brothers in this docile order will be able to marry, work their domains, eat and drink in moderation; they will not have to walk barefooted or wear a frock, but will be required simply to live virtuously, make friends with their enemies, give alms to the poor, and keep lifting their eyes from earth to heaven. . . . What do you say, Brother Leo? Are we of one mind?"

  I wanted to ask him why we could not enter this order ourselves, but I was too ashamed, too afraid.

  "It's a very good idea," I answered, at a loss what else to say.

  What could I say? I had made my bed; now I had to lie on it. I was hunting for God before I met Francis, but this had never taken away my delight in food. Since I joined him I'd had no further worries about finding God: I simply followed in Francis' footsteps, calm in the knowledge that he knew the way perfectly. But the problem of food, wine, and all the other comforts continued to torment me--yes, and though I am ashamed to admit it, I do: also the problem of women.

  "What is on your mind, Brother Leo?" Francis asked, seeing me thoughtful.

  "I'm thinking about God," I replied in an effort to change the subject.

  "Do you remember the years you pursued Him all over the earth? You never found Him, Brother Leo, for the simple reason that He was inside your heart. You were like the person who looks everywhere for his gold ring, looks everywhere day and night and cannot find it because he is wearing it on his finger."

  One evening at dusk, we arrived at the famous castle of Montefeltro. Multicolored banners were flying from the top of the tower; trumpets blared from the loopholes around its circumference; expensive red tapestries hung from the castle windows; the great fortified entranceway was adorned with myrtles and laurel. Noble lords and ladies were passing over the drawbridge, charming pages running to help the ladies dismount in front of the doors. Behind, all along the steep road which ascended from the plain below, other resplendently bejeweled ladies were visible, and also lords encased in golden armor. Servant boys and girls in brand- new checkered livery ran up and down carrying silver trays loaded with drinks and delicacies. "Paradise must be exactly like this," I gasped, dazzled by the wealth and beauty.

  "Much simpler, Brother Leo," Francis replied. . . . "They must be having some celebration," he continued, glancing at the lords, ladies, and flags. "Let's go celebrate with the
m. What do you say, Brother Leo?"

  "With pleasure, Brother Francis." What more could I possibly have wanted!

  Francis advanced over the drawbridge, calm and assured, as though he had been sent an invitation. I, however, grew timid.

  "But we weren't invited, Brother Francis. They'll chase us away."

  "Have no fears, lamb of God. This celebration is taking place for us--haven't you realized that yet? It is taking place to enable us to enter this savage fortress and begin to fish."

  "To fish?" I asked, surprised. "But I don't see any lake here, or any river or ocean. Only stones!"

  Francis laughed. "So you forget we are fishers, do you? Instead of catching fish, we catch souls. God's ways are many. Perhaps--who can tell?--there will be some soul here that is suffocating inside its silk clothes and beautiful body, some soul that wants to escape and be saved. Perhaps it was for this soul's precious sake that God had the noble lord of the castle hold this celebration: to entice us to enter--which, as you see, is what we are doing!" With these words, he strode over the threshold and past the ironbound gates.