From the Life of Saint Francis 

by John Manderino

Francis and the Leper
(publishing December 24th)

Francis and the Rain
(publishing December 25th)

Francis and the Stigmata
(publishing December 26th)


Francis and the Leper

The dashing young playboy from Assisi got down from his father’s white charger and gave the leper begging at the side of the road a kiss on his shriveled lips, thereby demonstrating to the Lord as well as to himself how sincerely he intended to change his ways and become a saint, renowned for loving everything and not just pretty girls. Returning to his horse he resisted the urge to take out his handkerchief and wipe his mouth. 

The leper meanwhile shook his tin bell at him and made gobbling sounds, trying to say, “How about some money?” 

Francis called down to him from the saddle, “I love you too, brother,” and rode off in triumph. 

The leper spat and wiped his mouth with the back of his shriveled hand. 


Francis and the Rain

The brothers were grumbling among themselves about the mud and pouring rain they’d been slogging through all morning in their soaking-wet robes, hoods up. And they were very hungry. They hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon and that was just some rock-hard bread from a loaf an angry baker had thrown at them to make them stop singing and go away.

They felt like nothing better than a pack of miserable tramps. 

At the head of the line Francis was trying to think of something he could possibly say or sing or do to pull the brothers out of their gloomy mood. At last he suddenly stopped walking, the others stopping too. Francis looked at them with profound compassion. Then he suddenly laughed like hell, pulled his robe off over his head, and went cavorting naked in the downpour, his face raised to the silvery fingers of Sister Rain.

Dutifully, the brothers began removing their robes.


Francis and the Stigmata

Kneeling in a cave one evening near the end of his life, holding his scrawny arms out wide, Francis envisioned the suffering of Christ on the cross so vividly and with such compassion he was granted the Stigmata, the wounds of Jesus, in his palms and feet where the nails had been driven, and on his right side just below the ribs where the spear had entered. 

This has never happened to anyone ever before, he thought, then prayed so hard for humility the wounds began to run. Lord, look!” he cried aloud. “I bleed for Thee!Then prayed even harder for humility, and bled even more. 

After a while, weak and dizzy from the loss of blood, Francis stretched out on the floor of the cave. Soon, he was fast asleep. And while Brother Spider and Sister Centipede crawled over him, he dreamed about a pretty girl he once knew named Angelina. He used to call her Angie. She used to call him Frankie.   






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