4.1 Francis of Assisi
There are references in the New Testament to unmarried men and women who served the local communities in special ways. Later, this celibate tradition continued as some Christians went into the deserts of Egypt and Syria to live their commitment in solitude. These men and women were variously called "hermits," "anchorites" and "The Desert Fathers." In the wilderness, they found a peace and tranquillity that was conducive to prayer, contemplation and reflection. Saint Anthony (d.350) said that, in creation, he could read the word of God.
Demonic powers also resided in the desert. The anchorites saw their presence in the wilderness as a process of re-creating an earthly paradise, of re-establishing the dominion over all life that existed before the Fall. The stories of encounters with wild animals illustrated their spiritual power. The monk Florentius had a bear as companion. The animals taught the hermits what was poisonous.
Their spirituality was to encounter a strange territory and move from conflict to harmony, to merge the natural with the supernatural until the two were indistinguishable. This spirituality influenced Celtic spirituality where the theme of voyage or pilgrimage provided a heightened awareness of the natural environment. Celtic spirituality, in turn, influenced Saint Francis of Assisi.
The Franciscan view of nature flows out of the nature mysticism of their founder, Saint Francis of Assisi. As Western civilization entered the Middle Ages, a new prosperity created capitalism and a middle class. There was also a universal call for reform within the Catholic Church. A significant mode of that reform came in the person of Saint Francis of Assisi (1182-1226) and his founding of the Franciscan Order. The order was approved by edict of Pope Innocent III on April 16, 1209.
With the Benedictines, very little is known about the personality of Saint Benedict. It is his written rule that has shaped the order. With Francis, his personality and charism dominate and it was hard to capture in a written rule. The Franciscans became the first of a different type of order. They are friars and mendicants, not monks. Like the monks, they have a distinctive habit (robe) and chant the psalms and canticles of the Bible in common. But unlike the monks, they have a strong emphasis on apostolic work, on preaching and serving people in a variety of ways. They move easily from place to place and are not bound to a particular monastery.
Francis' father was a wealthy cloth merchant who also bought up small farms and expelled the tenants. Francis reacted dramatically to his father's life style and attitude. He saw power, prestige and possessions as leading to violence and so he embraced humility, poverty and the cross. Much of his life was spent alone in nature like the Desert Fathers and the Celtic hermits. In this liminal position, he had a direct and mystical experience of God in creation.
There is a charming fresco by Giotto in the Basilica at Assisi. Here, Francis is seen preaching to birds. The famous incident illustrates the Saint's sense of the interdependence he saw in creation, an interdependence that called for respect and obedience. The birds praise God with their song. They each have autonomous worth and beauty and yet are brothers and sisters performing their divinely allotted function. The birds respect Francis because he is also a servant of God. Their response encouraged him to sustain his new perspective and they encourage him to carry his preaching to people. By implicitly humanizing creation through affective links, Francis made it easier for others to share his bond with creation. It was Francis and the early Franciscans who introduced the use of the crèche, the manger scenes that dramatize the Christmas event.
The legend of the wolf of Gubbio tells of a hungry wolf that was terrorizing a town. Francis went out and preached to the wolf and then preached penance and peace to the villagers. He was thus able to convince the people that the wolf was simply hungry and needed food. He forged a covenant wherein the people agreed to respect the wolf and provide him with food.
Like the monks before him, the psalms and canticles from the Bible shaped Francis' expressions. But unique to Francis, is the influence of the songs and lyrics of the troubadours. The troubadours were wandering musicians who composed and sang love songs. Here, Francis spiritualizes the mistral's interplay of natural setting and human experience, an interplay that elicits love and joy. Francis embraced and expressed the chivalric values of beneficent magnanimity and deference to all.
Like the ascetics before him, Francis also saw nature as allegorical. He had a particular affection for worms because there is a passage in the New Testament where Christ says, "I am a worm and no man." So Francis would carefully pick worms up off the road and place them in safer places. He saw Christ in the worms. The sun is like God because it is beautiful in itself and it gives light.
The clearest illustration of the Franciscan view of creation can be found in Francis' Canticle to Creation. The hymn praises the four elements; fire, air, water, and earth, which were seen as the components of all life forms. In the Canticle, he expresses the intrinsic goodness of the created world, the interdependence of all life, and his passion for beauty and peace. Because we call God "Father," creation becomes our brothers and sisters. He calls for a fraternal model, rather than a model of stewardship. We are to be detached from creatures in order not to possess them. He goes so far, at times, to say that we should even obey animals. The Franciscans were a dynamic argument against the Cathars; a heretical group at the time who held that "the spiritual" had been created by a beneficent divine power and the natural world by an evil one.
Francis forbade his followers to cut down a whole tree. Part needed to be left intact so that new sprouts could bud. Until recently, a Franciscan needed permission from the provincial before cutting down a tree. Francis spent the last years of his life in the wilderness.
The saint of Assisi fulfills Arne Naess' definition of a deep ecologist because he emphasized the diversity and intrinsic value of creation and because he addresses the reform of behaviors that threaten to destroy entire ecosystems. On Easter Sunday, 1980, Pope John Paul II proclaimed Saint Francis of Assisi the patron saint of ecology, following the suggestion 13 years earlier by Lynn White, Jr. in his seminal article in Science.
Today, Franciscan men and women continue their founder's work by focusing on the changes of hearts and minds needed to live in balance. Franciscan Keith Warner trained in geography and worked for a reforestation cooperative in the Pacific Northwest that planted over 600,000 trees. He is on the steering committee of the California Sustainable Agriculture Working Group and has lobbied with The Religious Campaign for Forest Conservation. Warner also campaigns against what he calls "Birdbath Franciscanism," a superficial and romantic view of Francis depicted in flower garden statuary. He sees his founder as much more ecologically radical.
Father Richard Rohr, also a Franciscan, founded and is director of The Center for Action and Contemplation in Albuquerque, New Mexico. The center's aim is to seek a balanced life by bringing together the worlds of spirituality, psychology, social action and environmental concerns.
Former Franciscan Leonardo Boff is a Brazilian and a major figure of liberation theology. In Ecology and Liberation (1995) and Cry of the Earth, Cry of the Poor (1997), he brings together poverty, ecological degradation and liberation. For Boff, the fate of the rain forest and the fate of Amazonian Indians are inseparably linked.
Franciscan sisters run Michaela Farm in Oldenburg, Indiana, where their aim is to seek and teach skills in organic food production and foster a simple lifestyle in harmony with the earth. Sister Rita Wienken has similar objectives with her Franciscan Earth Literacy Action Center on 500 acres in Tiffin, Ohio.
4.1.1 Forests
The Sacramental Nature of Forests:
Catholic Values and the Future of the Forest (Part One)
by Br. Keith Warner, OFM

Theologians are encouraging Catholics to see the seven sacraments as rooted in a sacramental universe. As a Franciscan, I encourage this understanding of sacraments and the material world. I want everyone's celebration of water, wheat, wine, and oil to reflect earth's bounty, beauty and goodness. And somehow we must work to heal the psychological schism which allows our brothers and sisters to celebrate God's love on Sunday and then see the earth as something to abuse and pollute on Monday.
The U.S. Catholic bishops recognize that the universe is God's dwelling. In their pastoral letter on the environment they put forth the sacramental nature of the earth as a fundamental starting point for theological reflection on care for the environment:
For many people, the environmental movement has reawakened appreciation of the truth that, through the created gift of nature, men and women encounter their Creator. The Christian vision of a sacramental universe -- a world that discloses the Creator's presence by visible and tangible signs -- can contribute to making the earth a home for the human family once again (Renewing the Earth).
Our challenge is to bring this sacramental theology out of books and into daily experience. Forests are excellent places to help those who are suffering from the psychological schism between earth and spirit.
Sacramental Forests
I spent no time in forests before I was 19 years old, so perhaps my experience of coming to recognize forests as sacramental might be illustrative. I took a nine-year break after my freshman year at college, and joined a Jesus community in Oregon that relied on income from a reforestation co-op. For six months every winter and spring, we put seedlings back into clearcut forest. At the beginning, I hated the job. Treeplanting is grueling work, and in the Northwest this work is often conducted in pouring rain on hillsides almost too steep for a person to stand. Strapping 30-40 pounds of refrigerated seedlings onto your hips and climbing through brambles and rockpiles was a shock to my body, accustomed to suburban comforts.
Yet over five seasons, the forest touched my heart. I developed a respect for the inhabitants of the forest, even though I spent most of the day in clearcuts. The sheer size of the Douglas firs in Oregon's ancient forests never ceased to awe me. The immense quantity of biomass inflicts a measure of humility in me, and, I suspect, in most people. Walking through an ancient forest grove reminds us that among God's creatures our species is not the biggest, nor the oldest, nor necessarily the wisest! As human beings we are distinctively gifted by our Creator, but God's creativity, blessing and love were communicated to me by the magnificence of the forest's trees.
Ironically, my awareness of the sacramental nature of forests became clearer after I moved from rural Oregon to urban Portland. I missed the beauty and quiet of the forest. Something about my life was lacking, like I was missing a family member, because I was not in the forest. Surrounded by noise, concrete and crass material culture, I escaped by returning to the beauty and serenity I found in the woods. That sense of longing for the splendor of an ancient forest endures in me today, fifteen years later.
Making a Return
My love of the forests led me to learn more about their biological diversity and the complex relationships within them. My feelings of reverence, humility, and gratitude have all grown and I have become an amateur natural historian of western forests. I love God more because of the way my spirit has been nurtured by our Creator in the forests. I don't know what most urban theologians think of when they write about the sacramental nature of creation, but I think back to the way forests have spoken to me of God's blessing, grace and love. I feel such a gratitude to forests that I am compelled to speak out on behalf of their damage, suffering and loss. As a Franciscan, I struggle to do this while always remembering the love of God I have experienced in them.
I love God more because of the way my spirit has
been nurtured by our Creator in the forests.
Western forests have been so spiritually important in my life that it can cause tension. In all honesty, my experiences of prayer are more consistently renewing out in the forests than inside church buildings. This does not mean that my best experiences of prayer have not been in church nor that sacraments are not vital to my life. I love a well-led liturgy and I entrust myself to the grace made manifest in the sacraments. Nor does it mean that I don't treasure the human community which has nurtured me in countless ways. My life is dedicated to nurturing community. But there is something special about being in a forest.
When I think of the hundreds of forest hikes I've taken, the word that best describes the overall experience is intimacy. I experience God intimately in forests. I love other ecological communities, but there is nothing quite like the communion and sacramentality in the moist, quiet, and sensory experience of an ancient forest.
__________________________
Keith Warner OFM is a Franciscan friar and geographer, living in San Juan Bautista, Central Coastal California. He is a doctoral student in environmental studies at UC Santa Cruz.
4.1.2 Ecological patron
In 1967, Lynn White, professor of history at the University of California, examined the roqts of the world's ecological crisis for Science magazine. He traced the origins of our suicidal lack of respect for our environment to the dogma of man's dominion over nature. In conclusion he wrote,

The greatest spiritual revolutionary in western history, Saint Francis, proposed an alternative Christian view of nature and man's relation to it: he tried to substitute the idea of the equality of all creatures, including man, for the idea of man's limitless rule of creation... I propose Francis as a patron saint for ecologists.'

In a sense the then World Wildlife Fund did just that in 1986. Aware that economic arguments were not sufficiently powerful to mobilise man's defence of the planet, they looked to the spiritual and jointly with the Vatican convened a conference of the world's religious leaders in Assisi.
4.1.3 Contact with nature
Many publications and several entire books have scrutinised every aspect of St Francis' picturesque encounters with animals and birds. For some they are merely sentimental folk tales. The church itself had to step in to refute those who wanted to dismiss them as animist or pantheist heresy. There are scholars who consider the stories merely projected on to Francis a cluster of legends which originated round the lives of early hermits and the Irish saints, who were already well known in Europe as great lovers of the natural world. Others still persist in regarding his sermon to the birds and his negotiations with a wolf as allegorical.of life in nature, of the living organisms, plant and animal, is a reflection of the life which is in God. And so also all the love in human nature.
4.1.4 Song of the sun
In the late spring of 1225 suffering from severe inflammation of his eyes St Francis couldn't stand sunlight and found it impossible to see by the glow of a lamp or candle at night. Imprisoned in darkness, his pain was so intense that he seldom rested or slept, and if he did drop off was soon woken by the field mice which scampered all over him. Shocked to discover he was giving way to self-pity he concentrated harder on his prayers.

He is reputed to have told the friars, 'God deigned to assure me, while I'm still here in the flesh, that there will be a place for me later in heaven. I therefore want to compose a song praising him and thanking him for all his creatures on earth, because we cannot live without them and we daily offend him by our lack of gratitude for them.

This was his song:

Most high, almighty, good Lord,
Yours be the praise, the glory, the honour and every blessing;
To you alone, most high, do they belong
And no man is worthy to utter your name.
Be praised, my Lord, with all your creatures,
Especially Lord Brother Sun,
To whom we owe both day and light,
For he is beautiful, radiant and of great splendour;
Of you, most high, he is the emblem.
Be praised, my Lord, through Sister Moon and the stars,
You have made them in the heavens, bright, precious and beautiful.
Be praised, my Lord, through Brothers Wind and Air, Through cloud, clear skies and all other weather By which ;you give your creatures sustenance.
Be praised, my Lord, through Sister Water, So very useful, humble, precious and chaste.
Be praised, my Lord, through Brother Fire,
By whom you enlighten the night;
He is beautiful, merry, robust and strong.
Be praised, my Lord, through our sister, Mother Earth,
Who sustains and looks after us,
Producing the different fruits, coloured flowers and the grass.

The Canticle of Brother Sun  was composed in the Umbrian dialect, then emerging with others from Latin into Italian. Some scholars say it is the earliest poem in a modern European language to survive, others that the original reveals great artistry not only in the choice and arrangement of its images but also in the subtlety of its rhythms.