I recently went to Israel on two pilgrimages. My experiences in the Holy Land have led me to consider Francis and reflect on his experience there, how he related to people of different faith. Last year, 2019, marked the eighth centenary of the legendary encounter between St. Francis and the leader of the Muslim army, Sultan Malek al-Kamil. It took place sometime between spring and summer, the year 1219. He arrived in Acre, the port city on the Mediterranean Coast. This was the same city where St. Paul landed after departing from Tyre (Acts 21:7). In the thirteenth century it served as the capital of the Latin Crusader Kingdom. To this day, tourists in the Old City can still visit the quarters of the Franks, Venetians, Pisans, and Genoans recalling their past military and trading presence. Today the city is referred to as Akko by both Jews and Muslims. It is mostly Jewish, as it lies just to the north of Israel’s third largest city, Haifa. But it is only twelve miles to the southern border of Lebanon, and is roughly one third Arabic. There is only one Catholic church in Akko today. Dedicated to St. John and under the Custody of the Franciscans of the Holy Land, it serves the small Latin Christian community that still survives. This is quite common throughout the entirety of the Holy Land. The very land where Christ was conceived, born, lived, taught, worked miracles, died, and was resurrected has a very tiny Christian presence. As such, it is a strange place for pilgrims to visit. On the one hand, it is the most powerful pilgrimage a Christian can undertake: there is no similar experience than walking in the very footsteps of our Lord. On the other hand, it is unusual in that there are very few Christians who live near these places. St. Francis experienced something similar. Many people (and all Franciscans) are aware of Francis’s encounter with the sultan. While the Crusades were raging, he set out calmly with Brother Illuminato into Saracen territory under the blazing desert sun. Armed with nothing but his tunic, cross, and the Word of God, Francis, perhaps miraculously, was received by the sultan. Though modern interpretations sometimes refer to this encounter as an early example of dialogue, the thirteenth-century sources indicate that Francis hoped to convert the sultan to Christianity. If the sultan would accept baptism, Francis hoped, it would bring about peace between Christians and Muslims. He knew the alternative would be his martyrdom. But he desired that, too. This event is captured in Giotto’s thirteenth century fresco cycle in the upper basilica of St. Francis. Francis challenged the Islamic scholars and priests of the sultan’s court to a trial by fire. They, together with Francis and Illuminato, would walk across the hot coals and, according to Francis, the adherents of the true religion would be unharmed. Instead, according to the ancient account, before they put themselves to the test, the Muslims recoiled and fled. Though this account may appear to present Francis harshly, how could he, in fact, react in any other way? His life was so fully formed by his faith in the Incarnation and Cross of Christ that Francis knew of no other way to relate to the sultan, or anyone else for that matter. He could only relate as a Christian.
Yet, neither of his longings were fulfilled: the sultan did not convert, and Francis was not martyred. Instead, something completely unexpected, miraculous even, transpired. The leader of the Muslim religion responded by turning over administration of the Christian sites in his territory to him. This was extraordinary in that safe passage for Christians on pilgrimage in the Holy Land was one of the primary reasons the Crusades had been begun in the first place. (To this day, most Christian churches in the Holy Land are still administered by the Franciscan Custody of the Holy Land. The roles of the friars are threefold: to maintain the sanctuaries, offer hospitality to pilgrims, and serve the local Christian community.) The following year, 1220, a centenary we commemorate this year, Francis’ followers were met with martyrdom. Known as the Protomartyrs, and led by Br. Berard of Carbio, these young friars denounced Islam and preached staunchly in Muslim lands in Spain and Morocco. After being imprisoned and exiled three times, they returned once again. This time, however, they were beheaded by the exasperated king himself. Surely both events were on Francis’ mind when he wrote the Earlier Rule, the next year, in 1221. Perhaps his encounter with the sultan, plus the ordeal of the protomartyrs led to him soften his outlook: "As for the brothers who go [to the Province of the Holy Land], they can live spiritually among [the Saracens and nonbelievers] in two ways. One way is not to engage in arguments or disputes, but to be subject to every human creature for God's sake and to acknowledge that they are Christians. Another way is to proclaim the word of God when they see that it pleases the Lord, so that they believe in the all-powerful God—Father, and Son, and Holy Spirit—the Creator of all, in the Son Who is the Redeemer and Savior, and that they be baptized and become Christians; because whoever has not been born again of water and the Holy Spirit cannot enter into the kingdom of God" (Earlier Rule, 26). In this brief text, we see a sort of compromise. The friars are to allow themselves to be “subject” to the Saracens, or, in other words, humble and meek. Nonetheless, they are to proclaim the Word of God when appropriate. This appears to be prudent middle ground, and a wise approach for establishing and maintaining long term relations. In this, we see Scripture: “Always be ready to give an explanation to anyone who asks you for a reason for your hope, but do it with gentleness and reverence” (1 Pet 3:15-f). In my brief sojourns in Israel, I did have some interactions with Muslims and Jews -- on the airplane, taxicab, hotel reception desk, or dinner table. And I can say that – in the spirit of Francis and Scripture – I did not engage in “arguments” or “disputes” with anyone. Yet, I did have some opportunities to talk about being a Franciscan. I showed my TAU cross and talked about being a Secular Franciscan. And, in turn, I listened to the way they live their faith. Somehow this seems the most appropriate way to interact with non-Christians today. And Francis’ reflections, though at a distance of eight centuries, still prove relevant.
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Bret ThomanCatholic. Franciscan. Married. Father. Pilgrim guide. Writer. Translator. Pilot. Aspiring sailor. Archives
April 2024
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