By Scott Mussari ’91

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.

When I was a child, my faith was childlike. It was simple and straightforward. It was unsophisticated and uncomplicated. Catholicism made me feel good, and that was good enough for me.

Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon.

It was during these much younger days of mine, when my aunt sowed stories of Saint Francis into my heart and mind. What mesmerized me most about this man from Assisi was the delight he felt and infectiously shared with others. Francis was cheerful about being Christian, and I wanted to be that way about my religion, too.

Where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope.

It was not until I matured in both age and faith that I further unpacked this fundamental trait of Francis I had long admired and attempted to emulate. He was not merely happy—Francis was thoroughly joyful. Happiness is a fleeting feeling of contentment based on stimuli from outside of us. Joy is a lasting emotion that comes from within us.

Where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy.

Francis emanated his joyfulness every day, in everything he did. Whether wrestling the physical demands of rebuilding a church with stones, or enduring the mental strains of begging for pittance in the public square, or bearing the spiritual challenges of practicing humility and charity, Francis remained ever joyful through it all.

O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console.

It was partly because of this that most people around him, including his own father, considered Francis mad in their eyes, as he willingly became poor of money and possessions. They could not see how his freedom from these belongings brought him joyful riches. His example inspired me then—and still does today—to be genuinely grateful for the blessings I have been given. His joyousness challenges me to be more detached from the tangible items of my house and savings account so as to seek a greater attachment to the ethereal elements of my heart and spirit.

To be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love.

A trailblazer is a pioneer who forges a new path. A trailblazer is an innovator who promotes a novel way of thinking. A trailblazer is a visionary who cultivates untilled ground. To me, Francis is the embodiment of a trailblazer. For as much as I admired his unabashed and unashamed joy, when I dug deeper to learn about and understand his other qualities and anecdotes, the more sacred depth I discovered about him.

For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned.

For example, the image of this quaint saint preaching to the birds and singing the praises of Brother Sun and Sister Moon can encourage us to genuinely respect and care for all facets of nature and our fellow brothers and sisters. The prayers and poems attributed to him about peace, and the courage he exhibited by dialoging with the world leaders of his day to plead with them about ending wars and violence, can urge us in our own conversion to become bolder instruments of peace and justice. He sought the wisdom of his bishop and the approval of the Pope—this loyalty to the Church’s leadership can promote in us a greater respect and allegiance to the hierarchy and traditions of the Catholic faith. Even the account of him creating the first live nativity scene can keep us focused on the image of the crèche rather than the trap of the commercialism of Christmas.

And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

At the end of Francis’ life, he was nearly blind, could barely walk, suffered from the wounds of the stigmata, and yet still he radiated joy as he welcomed Sister Death by singing with his final breaths. Francis’ fire continues to blaze a bright trail in our world today. Our simple and straightforward mission is to follow it, faithfully and joyfully.