Many of us probably don’t think about our death on a regular basis. In fact, many of us probably avoid the conversation. However, it is good for us to consider “Sister Death” as Francis would say and ponder what would truly be a blessing “at the hour of death.” To consider our sister death, means we open our heart to trust in God and the mercy, compassion and new life only God can offer. To ponder the blessings of the hour when we take our final breath more than likely means we think of certain people.
When Francis lay dying on the eve of October 3, 1226, he desired his brothers who had been with him from the beginning to be closest to him. He also desired the companionship of Lady Jacoba and his sister Clare. He would request his brothers sing to him the Canticle of Creatures. He would request Lady Jacoba to bring cookies. From Clare he would desire prayer, closeness, vision and continued friendship. Clare offered all of these to Francis. She was present to him in his living and dying. She didn’t forget him as he was placed in the grave, rather she became an anchor for the Franciscan family.
I think of St. Clare as we St. Francis on his transitus. I think of her courage earlier in their story to leave everything behind and set a new pattern for living. I think of how she trusted, yes, in God but also in Francis and his vision for gospel living. I think of her compassion toward Francis. I believe she kept him grounded when he was lost in emotions and uncertainty reminding him of his vision in Christ. I think of how after his death she persevered in her leadership seeing through her rule of life being approved just before her meeting of sister death. I think of her friendship with Francis, how “instead of looking at each other, Clare and Francis looked in the same direction… Jesus, poor, humbled and crucified” (Raniero Cantalamessa, O.F.M. Cap.). To look at the poor, humbled, crucified Crist is look at love and the depth of relationship.
Thinking of St. Clare on the Feast of St. Francis, I consider those in my life who continue to show up. Those companions who don’t look to me but look with me toward our final home with hope. Those companions who are not afraid to have the hard conversations and still offer compassion. Those companions who like Clare for Francis, know my heart; it’s brokenness and its hope. Each year as we mark the passing of Francis from this world into the next, I am reminded one day this too will be my moment. I trust like Francis I will have someone like Clare by my side, who will whisper into my ears, “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death is your sting?” (1 Corinthians 15.55).
