21ST SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST
(Proper 24C, 28th Sunday in Ordinary Time)
October 17, 2010
Ss. Peter & Paul – 10:00 a.m.
by Fr. Phil Ayers
God of the dispossessed,
you teach us to hunger for justice
even when the weak are shut out
and the powerful turn over in their beds:
in the heat of our anger
and the bitterness of our complaints,
give us the courage to protest,
the persistence to pray,
and the heart to love;
through Jesus Christ, the true judge.
(Steven Shakespeare, Prayers for an Inclusive Church)
+++++
A parable, such as we have before us in today’s Gospel – sometimes called “The Importunate Widow and the Unjust Judge” – is a pearl of wisdom set in a particular context by the evangelists, the gospel-writers, for pastoral purposes. That is, as I try to understand it, for purposes of strengthening the community of Christ. Thomas Keating says we have to remove the jewel from the context in order to get to the heart of the reality proposed by the parable, which shocks us into an experience of who we are and what motivates our conduct. The parables give insight that is not just knowledge, but the knowledge infused by love that Paul keeps referring to in his epistles.
2
Leaving out the context in which Luke places this precious gem, which makes of it an exhortation to pray always and not lose heart, the original meaning of the parable emerges stark and clear.
The outraged widow is not presented as virtuous or having just cause. She was, after all, a product of her time, in which widows got a bum deal: if any money was left by her husband, it went to her sons or to her brothers-in-law. She was, in effect, a charity case. The judge is obviously not impartial or objective. How can the kingdom of God be similar to anything in this rather scandalous situation? If the judge was a professional crook, it would not be so bad. But he is supposed to be a decent man who does justice to people. The fact is he is a wretched man!
We might remember that there were no juries in the time of Jesus so the role of a judge was doubly important. Judging meant adjudicating disputes, hearing complaints fairly, and maintaining harmonious relationships between people. A judge established and guarded shalom – peace, if you will – in the community.
In particular, the Law of Israel instructed the people – and certainly the judges in their midst – to show mercy to widows, orphans, and foreigners. After all, God had been merciful to the Hebrew people while they were in bondage; so they should especially reciprocate this graciousness to the powerless among them. The judge, of all people, would be charged with this responsibility of championing the rights of the dispossessed and the alienated.
3
By these standards, the judge in the parable comes across as completely unfit. He is a backslider - a slacker in keeping the Law. He has lost whatever compunction he had once to champion the poor.
But the widow keeps knocking!!!
We might translate this story into a contemporary scenario. Let us say that there is a judge who is supposed to decide a difficult insurance case. The plaintiff, a widow, who is destitute, sends him two or three letters a day, plus a couple of telegrams, makes innumerable phone calls, endless faxes, and has her friends calling in daily to recommend her cause and demand justice.
When he tries to leave his house or workplace, she accosts him. Regularly she sends him a bouquet of roses with the message, “I’m waiting.”
Finally the judge cannot stand her constant, annoying begging anymore and without considering the merits of the case, decides to give her all that she wants. (One commentator I consulted remarks that what is translated “wearing me out by her continually coming” could well be “so that she won’t give me a black eye”!)
Having concluded the parable, Jesus walks off down the street with his disciples.
With whom can the hearers identify in this parable? Nobody wants to see himself or herself as an unjust judge. Nobody wants to be the destitute widow. Whom can they identify with? That is the crux of the challenge.
4
Parables are mirrors in which we are invited to look at ourselves. We are the unjust judge. The widow represents the kingdom of God – grace that is constantly banging on our door, morning, noon, and night, pleading, “Do me justice.” Or more specifically, “How about spending some time in prayer? How about forgiving your enemy? How about seeking reconciliation with the members of your family? How about helping someone in need?”
So we can take note of the feelings that hinder our relationships, our efforts to forgive and not to judge. Where are they coming from? These are the things that the widow whom Fr. Keating calls “The divine widow” has in mind when she pleads, “Do me justice!” In other words, “Be compassionate as your heavenly Father is compassionate.”
The divine widow keeps pounding on the door of our hearts day after day as, like the unjust judge, we try to put her off. If modern forms of communication can be overwhelming, wait until you encounter how many ways of communicating God can come up with! God approaches us all day long, coming to meet us morning, noon, and night through people, events, and our own thoughts, feelings, memories, and reactions. We accept the kingdom finally, not because we are just or deserve it, but because at some point, like the unjust judge, we cannot stand the pestering of grace anymore and are forced to give in, saying, “Okay, take my life. I am in your hands.”
5
Here at Ss. Peter & Paul, we are invited to live into the thrust of that parable, responding to the persistence of many “divine widows” who won’t go away and constantly remind us of what we are to be about as Christians. They convey the holy and urgent grace of God by their persistence, and even annoyance, at times. We can totally ignore them or we can respond to their invitation in terms of sharing our abundance. (And I think we do have some here in our midst, but they are NOT pests!)
Our parish is a context in which we are put into many relationships with one another. Some we would rather not enter into, but we really must for our soul’s health and the health of the Body of Christ in this place and time. I’m not speaking mysteriously here: more concretely, Ss. Peter & Paul is a place in which I have witnessed an inkling of the Kingdom of God. And it has come about through the people who comprise this community: we spend a lot of our time in prayer, especially in the community’s prayer – the liturgy, the work of the people of God – richly celebrated week by week. We are invited and beckoned to cultivate our spiritual lives, not so that we will climb the ladder of perfection necessarily, but so that we will be equipped to reach out in love and concern for the poor, the needy (of all kinds!), the destitute, the lonely, the bereft, the seekers, the hurting and abused. We are called to forgive one another, called to reconcile divergence.
6 Now the parish invites us to consider how we will, with the gifts God has so richly bestowed upon us, support this community and its life and work and ministry. Last evening many of us were present for “Loaves and Fishes,” a terrific idea that the Vestry came up with; and we got a true taste of what it must have been like on that hillside long ago when loaves and fishes were miraculously multiplied and the fragments left over from the meal were filling many baskets. We all ate, and were satisfied! This isn’t your “normal” or “regular” fall stewardship “pitch.” I take this to mean something far deeper than the annual “Beg-a-Thon” we so often indulge in. (I certainly did that when I was an active parish rector.) Rather, it is an invitation, a call to live holier and deeper lives in Christ, to be truer than we’ve ever been before to the solemn Baptismal Covenant, part of which proclaims to love and serve Christ in every human being, loving our neighbor as ourselves.
Strength and abundance is ours, dear people of God at Ss. Peter & Paul. May we share it, giving gladly and willingly, not just to “keep doors open,” not just “to pay the bills,” not just to “stay afloat” – but to witness clearly to the love of God in Christ as we receive him into our bodies today and at every Mass we celebrate together.
[Ideas from Paula Franck, Thomas Keating and H. K. Oehmig in Synthesis 10/17/10]
archived musings and preachments
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
The Nine and the One
Proper 23 C 2010
Jer 29: 1, 4-7; Ps 66: 1-11; 2 Tim 2: 8-15; Luke 17: 11-19
“The other nine—where are they?”
The table is set and the food is laid out. The invitations have been sent, some have RSVP’d, others have not. The hour for dinner arrives, and the host glances nervously out the front window. She thinks she hears a soft tap at the door, then realizes it was her hopeful imagination. What shall I do with all this food?
“The other nine—where are they?”
Anyone who has planned a party can recognize the wonder and the frustration in Jesus’ voice. Anyone who has planned church events can identify with Jesus’ question. The work party, the special liturgy, the stewardship event—yes, our lives are complicated, and even getting to Sunday Mass seems to take special effort even for the most committed. Chances are we can all identify with Jesus who wonders aloud at the small response to a healing received. Chances are we have also sometimes been among the absent “nine.”
It is not my intention to preach a “make you feel guilty if you don’t show up for things” sermon. But today’s Gospel does invite us into reflecting deeply about our response to Jesus’ voice and action in our lives. Like that day on the road, Jesus does amazing things for us—he heals, he calls, he sends, he gives new meaning and purpose, he even brings us back to life. Today we are among that mystical band of ten lepers who needed so much and asked for so much. At first there were ten. Then there was one, and nine. One was different in response. That one received much more.
Let’s not forget that all ten lepers did things the right way. They respectfully obeyed the taboos for lepers and kept some distance between themselves and Jesus. They acknowledged that Jesus could do something wondrous for them—“Jesus, Master, have mercy!” And Jesus responds and gives them what they ask. He sends the ten on a journey of obedience both to himself and to the Law of Moses—“Go and show yourselves to the priests.” They obey, they set out, and they are made clean.
There is nothing wrong with any of this. We never learn if the now-clean lepers complete their journey and show themselves obediently to the priests. According to the Law, only the priests can pronounce a leper clean so they can re-join the community. I imagine that most if not all of them fulfilled that journey, and ended up at the Temple, obeying Jesus and obeying the ancient Law.
But there was one who did things differently, one who actually disobeys the letter of the Law and even the letter of what Jesus said. He returns to the place where he was a leper and Jesus was his only hope for healing. He lays down in a lovely Middle Eastern bow—not at the Temple, not before the priest, but before the Jesus who is himself healing and hope.
And he was a Samaritan, a foreigner. Nine were made “clean”, nine obeyed the Word and customs—but only one soke his thanks aloud, only one was pronounced “well.”
Today our own church community is a mix of the long-time faithful, the new seekers, the casual fringe, and the involved well-wishers from “outside.” Sometimes it is these outsiders who make our events and our ministries work. When this happens, I sometimes think of this story of the ten lepers.
It is a wonderful thing to be a church which knows Jesus and which prays to him for healing and life. It is a wonderful thing to obey the word of Jesus and of our wise tradition. It really is good to be one of the “nine.”
But what would it be like to make the extra journey, to take a new leap, to be one with that grateful Samaritan? What would it be like to be a community which was also “made well”?
Jer 29: 1, 4-7; Ps 66: 1-11; 2 Tim 2: 8-15; Luke 17: 11-19
“The other nine—where are they?”
The table is set and the food is laid out. The invitations have been sent, some have RSVP’d, others have not. The hour for dinner arrives, and the host glances nervously out the front window. She thinks she hears a soft tap at the door, then realizes it was her hopeful imagination. What shall I do with all this food?
“The other nine—where are they?”
Anyone who has planned a party can recognize the wonder and the frustration in Jesus’ voice. Anyone who has planned church events can identify with Jesus’ question. The work party, the special liturgy, the stewardship event—yes, our lives are complicated, and even getting to Sunday Mass seems to take special effort even for the most committed. Chances are we can all identify with Jesus who wonders aloud at the small response to a healing received. Chances are we have also sometimes been among the absent “nine.”
It is not my intention to preach a “make you feel guilty if you don’t show up for things” sermon. But today’s Gospel does invite us into reflecting deeply about our response to Jesus’ voice and action in our lives. Like that day on the road, Jesus does amazing things for us—he heals, he calls, he sends, he gives new meaning and purpose, he even brings us back to life. Today we are among that mystical band of ten lepers who needed so much and asked for so much. At first there were ten. Then there was one, and nine. One was different in response. That one received much more.
Let’s not forget that all ten lepers did things the right way. They respectfully obeyed the taboos for lepers and kept some distance between themselves and Jesus. They acknowledged that Jesus could do something wondrous for them—“Jesus, Master, have mercy!” And Jesus responds and gives them what they ask. He sends the ten on a journey of obedience both to himself and to the Law of Moses—“Go and show yourselves to the priests.” They obey, they set out, and they are made clean.
There is nothing wrong with any of this. We never learn if the now-clean lepers complete their journey and show themselves obediently to the priests. According to the Law, only the priests can pronounce a leper clean so they can re-join the community. I imagine that most if not all of them fulfilled that journey, and ended up at the Temple, obeying Jesus and obeying the ancient Law.
But there was one who did things differently, one who actually disobeys the letter of the Law and even the letter of what Jesus said. He returns to the place where he was a leper and Jesus was his only hope for healing. He lays down in a lovely Middle Eastern bow—not at the Temple, not before the priest, but before the Jesus who is himself healing and hope.
And he was a Samaritan, a foreigner. Nine were made “clean”, nine obeyed the Word and customs—but only one soke his thanks aloud, only one was pronounced “well.”
Today our own church community is a mix of the long-time faithful, the new seekers, the casual fringe, and the involved well-wishers from “outside.” Sometimes it is these outsiders who make our events and our ministries work. When this happens, I sometimes think of this story of the ten lepers.
It is a wonderful thing to be a church which knows Jesus and which prays to him for healing and life. It is a wonderful thing to obey the word of Jesus and of our wise tradition. It really is good to be one of the “nine.”
But what would it be like to make the extra journey, to take a new leap, to be one with that grateful Samaritan? What would it be like to be a community which was also “made well”?
Monday, October 4, 2010
The Wolf of Gubbio
(note-the tale I told as a homily on St. Francis Sunday was my rendering of "the Wolf of Gubbio", one of the oldest and richest of the legends of Saint Francis. Rather than re-do it myself as a text, here the Franciscans tell the tale themselves from FranciscanWiki, translated from the "Little Flowers of Saint Francis", an ancient collection of Francis tales--kn+)
From the Fioretti ("The Little Flowers of St. Francis")
Chapter 21.
How St. Francis Tamed the Very Fierce Wolf of Gubbio
At a time when St. Francis was staying in the town of Gubbio, something wonderful and worthy of lasting fame happened.
For there appeared in the territory of that city a fearfully large and fierce wolf which was so rabid with hunger that it devoured not only animals but even human beings. All the people in the town considered it such a great scourge and terror -- because it often came near the town -- that they took weapons with them when they went into the country, as if they were going to war. But even with their weapons, they were not able to escape the sharp teeth and raging hunger of the wolf when they were so unfortunate as to meet it. Consequently, everyone in the town was so terrified that hardly anyone dared go outside the city gate.
But God wished to bring the holiness of St. Francis to the attention of those people.
For while the Saint was there at that time, he had pity on the people and decided to go out and meet the wolf. But on hearing this the citizens said to him: "Look out, Brother Francis. Don't go outside the gate, because the wolf which has already devoured many people will certainly attack you and kill you!"
But St. Francis placed his hope in the Lord Jesus Christ who is master of all creatures. Protected not by a shield or a helmet, but arming himself with the Sign of the Cross, he bravely went out of the town with his companion, putting all his faith in the Lord who makes those who believe in Him walk without any injury on an asp and a basilisk and trample not merely on a wolf but even on a lion and a dragon. So with his very great faith St. Francis bravely went out to meet the wolf.
Some peasants accompanied him a little way, but soon they said to him: "We don't want to go any farther because that wolf is very fierce and we might get hurt."
When he heard them say this, St. Francis answered: "Just stay here. But I am going on to where the wolf lives."
Then, in the sight of many people who bad come out and climbed onto places to see this wonderful event, the fierce wolf came running with its mouth open toward St. Francis and his companion.
The Saint made the Sign of the Cross toward it. And the power of God, proceeding is much from himself as from his companion, checked the wolf and made it slow down and close its cruel mouth.
Then, calling to it, St. Francis said: "Come to me, Brother Wolf. In the name of Christ, I order you not to hurt me or anyone."
It is marvelous to relate that as soon as he had made the Sign of the Cross, the wolf closed its terrible jaws and stopped running, and as soon as he gave it that order, it lowered its head and lay down at the Saint's feet, as though it had become a lamb.
And St. Francis said to it as it lay in front of him: "Brother Wolf, you have done great harm in this region, and you have committed horrible crimes by destroying God's creatures without any mercy. You have been destroying not only irrational animals, but you even have the more detestable brazenness to kill and devour human beings made in the image of God. You therefore deserve to be put to death just like the worst robber and murderer. Consequently everyone is right in crying out against you and complaining, and this whole town is your enemy. But, Brother Wolf, I want to make peace between you and them, so that they will not be harmed by you any more, and after they have forgiven you all your past crimes, neither men nor dogs will pursue you any more."
The wolf showed by moving its body and tail and ears and by nodding its head that it willingly accepted what the Saint had said and would observe it.
So St. Francis spoke again: "Brother Wolf, since you are willing to make and keep this peace pact, I promise you that I will have the people of this town give you food every day as long as you live, so that you will never again suffer from hunger, for I know that whatever evil you have been doing was done because of the urge of hunger. But, my Brother Wolf, since I am obtaining such a favor for you, I want you to promise me that you will never hurt any animal or man. Will you promise me that?"
The wolf gave a clear sign, by nodding its head, that it promised to do what the Saint asked.
And St. Francis said: "Brother Wolf, I want you to give me a pledge so that I can confidently believe what you promise."
And as St. Francis held out his hand to receive the pledge, the wolf also raised its front paw and meekly and gently put it in St. Francis' hand as a sign that it was giving its pledge.
Then St. Francis said: "Brother Wolf, I order you, in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, to come with me now, without fear, into the town to make this peace pact in the name of the Lord."
And the wolf immediately began to walk along beside St. Francis, just like a very gentle lamb. When the people saw this, they were greatly amazed, and the news spread quickly throughout the whole town, so that all of them, men as well as women, great and small, assembled on the market place, because St. Francis was there with the wolf.
So when a very large crowd had gathered, St. Francis gave them a wonderful sermon, saying among other things that such calamities were permitted by God because of their sins, and how the consuming fire of hell by which the damned have to be devoured for all eternity is much more dangerous than the raging of a wolf which can kill nothing but the body, and how much more they should fear to be plunged into hell, since one little animal could keep so great a crowd in such a state of terror and trembling.
"So, dear people," he said, "come back to the Lord, and do fitting penance, and God will free you from the wolf in this world and from the devouring fire of hell in the next world."
And having said that, he added: "Listen, dear people. Brother Wolf, who is standing here before you, has promised me and has given me a pledge that he will make peace with you and will never hurt you if you promise also to feed him every day. And I pledge myself as bondsman for Brother Wolf that he will faithfully keep this peace pact."
Then all the people who were assembled there promised in a loud voice to feed the wolf regularly.
And St. Francis said to the wolf before them all: "And you, Brother Wolf, do you promise to keep this pact, that is, not to hurt any animal or human being?"
The wolf knelt down and bowed its head, and by twisting its body and wagging its tail and ears it clearly showed to everyone that it would keep the pact as it had promised.
And St. Francis said: "Brother Wolf, just as you gave me a pledge of this when we were outside the city gate, I want you to give me a pledge here before all these people that you will keep the pact and will never betray me for having pledged myself as your bondsman."
Then in the presence of all the people the wolf raised its right paw and put it in St. Francis' hand as a pledge.
And the crowd was so filled with amazement and joy, out of devotion for the Saint as well as over the novelty of the miracle and over the peace pact between the wolf and the people, that they all shouted to the sky, praising and blessing the Lord Jesus Christ who had sent St. Francis to them, by whose merits they had been freed from such a fierce wolf and saved from such a terrible scourge and had recovered peace and quiet.
From that day, the wolf and the people kept the pact which St. Francis made. The wolf lived two years more, and it went from door to door for food. It hurt no one, and no one hurt it. The people fed it courteously. And it is a striking fact that not a single dog ever barked at it.
Then the wolf grew old and died. And the people were sorry, because whenever it went through the town, its peaceful kindness and patience reminded them of the virtues and the holiness of St. Francis.
Praised be Our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
From the Fioretti ("The Little Flowers of St. Francis")
Chapter 21.
How St. Francis Tamed the Very Fierce Wolf of Gubbio
At a time when St. Francis was staying in the town of Gubbio, something wonderful and worthy of lasting fame happened.
For there appeared in the territory of that city a fearfully large and fierce wolf which was so rabid with hunger that it devoured not only animals but even human beings. All the people in the town considered it such a great scourge and terror -- because it often came near the town -- that they took weapons with them when they went into the country, as if they were going to war. But even with their weapons, they were not able to escape the sharp teeth and raging hunger of the wolf when they were so unfortunate as to meet it. Consequently, everyone in the town was so terrified that hardly anyone dared go outside the city gate.
But God wished to bring the holiness of St. Francis to the attention of those people.
For while the Saint was there at that time, he had pity on the people and decided to go out and meet the wolf. But on hearing this the citizens said to him: "Look out, Brother Francis. Don't go outside the gate, because the wolf which has already devoured many people will certainly attack you and kill you!"
But St. Francis placed his hope in the Lord Jesus Christ who is master of all creatures. Protected not by a shield or a helmet, but arming himself with the Sign of the Cross, he bravely went out of the town with his companion, putting all his faith in the Lord who makes those who believe in Him walk without any injury on an asp and a basilisk and trample not merely on a wolf but even on a lion and a dragon. So with his very great faith St. Francis bravely went out to meet the wolf.
Some peasants accompanied him a little way, but soon they said to him: "We don't want to go any farther because that wolf is very fierce and we might get hurt."
When he heard them say this, St. Francis answered: "Just stay here. But I am going on to where the wolf lives."
Then, in the sight of many people who bad come out and climbed onto places to see this wonderful event, the fierce wolf came running with its mouth open toward St. Francis and his companion.
The Saint made the Sign of the Cross toward it. And the power of God, proceeding is much from himself as from his companion, checked the wolf and made it slow down and close its cruel mouth.
Then, calling to it, St. Francis said: "Come to me, Brother Wolf. In the name of Christ, I order you not to hurt me or anyone."
It is marvelous to relate that as soon as he had made the Sign of the Cross, the wolf closed its terrible jaws and stopped running, and as soon as he gave it that order, it lowered its head and lay down at the Saint's feet, as though it had become a lamb.
And St. Francis said to it as it lay in front of him: "Brother Wolf, you have done great harm in this region, and you have committed horrible crimes by destroying God's creatures without any mercy. You have been destroying not only irrational animals, but you even have the more detestable brazenness to kill and devour human beings made in the image of God. You therefore deserve to be put to death just like the worst robber and murderer. Consequently everyone is right in crying out against you and complaining, and this whole town is your enemy. But, Brother Wolf, I want to make peace between you and them, so that they will not be harmed by you any more, and after they have forgiven you all your past crimes, neither men nor dogs will pursue you any more."
The wolf showed by moving its body and tail and ears and by nodding its head that it willingly accepted what the Saint had said and would observe it.
So St. Francis spoke again: "Brother Wolf, since you are willing to make and keep this peace pact, I promise you that I will have the people of this town give you food every day as long as you live, so that you will never again suffer from hunger, for I know that whatever evil you have been doing was done because of the urge of hunger. But, my Brother Wolf, since I am obtaining such a favor for you, I want you to promise me that you will never hurt any animal or man. Will you promise me that?"
The wolf gave a clear sign, by nodding its head, that it promised to do what the Saint asked.
And St. Francis said: "Brother Wolf, I want you to give me a pledge so that I can confidently believe what you promise."
And as St. Francis held out his hand to receive the pledge, the wolf also raised its front paw and meekly and gently put it in St. Francis' hand as a sign that it was giving its pledge.
Then St. Francis said: "Brother Wolf, I order you, in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, to come with me now, without fear, into the town to make this peace pact in the name of the Lord."
And the wolf immediately began to walk along beside St. Francis, just like a very gentle lamb. When the people saw this, they were greatly amazed, and the news spread quickly throughout the whole town, so that all of them, men as well as women, great and small, assembled on the market place, because St. Francis was there with the wolf.
So when a very large crowd had gathered, St. Francis gave them a wonderful sermon, saying among other things that such calamities were permitted by God because of their sins, and how the consuming fire of hell by which the damned have to be devoured for all eternity is much more dangerous than the raging of a wolf which can kill nothing but the body, and how much more they should fear to be plunged into hell, since one little animal could keep so great a crowd in such a state of terror and trembling.
"So, dear people," he said, "come back to the Lord, and do fitting penance, and God will free you from the wolf in this world and from the devouring fire of hell in the next world."
And having said that, he added: "Listen, dear people. Brother Wolf, who is standing here before you, has promised me and has given me a pledge that he will make peace with you and will never hurt you if you promise also to feed him every day. And I pledge myself as bondsman for Brother Wolf that he will faithfully keep this peace pact."
Then all the people who were assembled there promised in a loud voice to feed the wolf regularly.
And St. Francis said to the wolf before them all: "And you, Brother Wolf, do you promise to keep this pact, that is, not to hurt any animal or human being?"
The wolf knelt down and bowed its head, and by twisting its body and wagging its tail and ears it clearly showed to everyone that it would keep the pact as it had promised.
And St. Francis said: "Brother Wolf, just as you gave me a pledge of this when we were outside the city gate, I want you to give me a pledge here before all these people that you will keep the pact and will never betray me for having pledged myself as your bondsman."
Then in the presence of all the people the wolf raised its right paw and put it in St. Francis' hand as a pledge.
And the crowd was so filled with amazement and joy, out of devotion for the Saint as well as over the novelty of the miracle and over the peace pact between the wolf and the people, that they all shouted to the sky, praising and blessing the Lord Jesus Christ who had sent St. Francis to them, by whose merits they had been freed from such a fierce wolf and saved from such a terrible scourge and had recovered peace and quiet.
From that day, the wolf and the people kept the pact which St. Francis made. The wolf lived two years more, and it went from door to door for food. It hurt no one, and no one hurt it. The people fed it courteously. And it is a striking fact that not a single dog ever barked at it.
Then the wolf grew old and died. And the people were sorry, because whenever it went through the town, its peaceful kindness and patience reminded them of the virtues and the holiness of St. Francis.
Praised be Our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
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