The Peace and All Good Column

Archbishop Gregory J. Hartmayer, OFM Conv., is the seventh Archbishop of Atlanta. In his award-winning column “Peace and All Good,” he shares homilies and pastoral reflections.

We are living in a broken and wounded world.

Over the past several months, we have witnessed many tragedies and disasters, some of which have been close to home. Among them were the shootings at Apalachee High School in Winder that claimed the lives of two students and two teachers; the devastation and human suffering in the wake of Hurricanes Helene and Milton; the continuing conflict in Ukraine and the escalation of the war in the Middle East. These events inflict wounds upon all of us: wounds of sadness and pain, of fear and insecurity and of loneliness and grief.

On our streets, we see the wounds of our brothers and sisters who are poor and homeless. These wounds bring us to our knees asking God for comfort and consolation, for healing and peace.

This 17th-century oil on canvas painting by Bernardo Strozzi titled “Saint Francis in Prayer” is part of the “Heavenly Earth: Images of Saint Francis at La Verna” exhibit at the National Gallery of Art in Washington. CNS photo/courtesy National Gallery of Art

In September 1224, St. Francis of Assisi and a few of his close friar companions traveled to La Verna, a high mountain in Tuscany, Italy, to spend some time in prayer and reflection. This was about two years before his death. Since his conversion in 1206, when Jesus appeared to him and spoke the words “Rebuild my Church,” Francis had lived an intense spiritual life, dedicated to the poor and suffering.

In 1219, Francis traveled to the Holy Land, and putting his life at risk, pleaded with the Sultan of Egypt for peace. St. Bonaventure described the encounter, writing, “The sultan asked them by whom and why and in what capacity they had been sent, and how they got there; but Francis replied that they had been sent by God, not by men, to show him and his subjects the way of salvation and proclaim the truth of the Gospel message. When the sultan saw his enthusiasm and courage, he listened to him willingly and pressed him to stay with him.”

Small wonder that Francis attracted many followers. Pope Honorius III approved his Rule of Life in 1223, recognizing his followers as the Friars Minor. In that same year, he organized the first Christmas crèche at Greccio.

When Francis ascended Mount La Verna, his body was worn out from many travels and fasts, as well as exposure to the elements. His health began to break down. The religious order that he founded had experienced tremendous growth, but divisions began to emerge. With a heavy heart, yet with absolute trust in God, he prayed for strength and peace. Francis centered his prayer on the passion and death of Jesus. In doing so, he wanted to feel in his body the pain experienced by Jesus in his sufferings, and in his heart, the love that led Jesus to suffer and die for us.

Sometime around the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross (Sept. 14, 1224), Francis had a vision. He saw a seraph angel and the image of what looked like a crucified man in the center of the angel’s wings. When it was over, Francis discovered the wounds of the crucified Jesus on his hands, his feet and his side. He tried to keep those wounds a secret. They were known only to his most intimate companions. St. Bonaventure saw the stigmata as the stamp of God’s approval on Francis’ radical way of living the Gospel.

Central to our Christian faith, which St. Francis so boldly preached and exemplified, is the suffering, death and resurrection of Jesus. When the Risen Christ appeared to the disciples in the Upper Room, he said to them: “Look at my hands and my feet, that it is I myself.” He then showed them his hands and his feet (Lk 24:39). Thomas the Apostle was not with the disciples when Jesus first appeared. When the others recounted what they had seen, he protested: “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe” (Jn 20:25).

One week later, Jesus appeared again and this time, Thomas was there. Thomas’ doubts are dispelled as Jesus invites him to touch his sacred wounds and place his hand in his wounded side, to which Thomas proclaimed, “My Lord and my God.” Christ’s risen body showed the wounds of his passion: in the words of St. Bede the Venerable, “to wear them as an everlasting trophy of his victory.”

The glorious wounds of Christ are ours as well. Our sufferings are not in vain. In the words of Pope Francis: “His wounds are the pathways that God has opened up for us to enter into his tender love and actually touch who he is.”

Looking in silence

In a homily some years ago, Pope Francis spoke about the wounds of Christ: “Look at the wounds. Enter into the wounds. By those wounds, we were healed. Do you feel bitter, feel sad, feel life just isn’t going the right way, and you’re also ill? Look there in silence.” He went on to recommend a beautiful devotion in which a person contemplates each of Christ’s wounds and recites an Our Father. “When we pray that Our Father, let’s try to enter through Jesus’ wounds and arrive deeper and deeper, to his heart … Enter into his wounds and contemplate the love in his heart for you, and you, and you, and me, for everyone.”

In another homily, the Holy Father spoke about the tenderness of God using the example of when a child gets hurt. The first reaction of a parent is to ask to see the scratch or bruise to kiss it and say “all better!” He said that God does the same. God wants to see the wounds of his children to touch them, bandage them and heal them.

In commemoration of the eighth centenary of the stigmata that St. Francis received, Pope Francis met with the Franciscan Friars of La Verna. In his remarks, he stated “Christians are called to address themselves in a special way to the ‘stigmatized’ they encounter: to those who are ‘marked’ in life, who bear the scars of the sufferings and injustices they have endured or the mistakes they have made. And in this mission, the Saint of La Verna is a companion on the journey, who supports us and helps us not to be crushed by difficulties, fears and contradictions, ours and those of others. This is what Francis did every day.”

This is such an important message for all of us today, as we bring our own wounds and the wounds of our world before the Lord. As we reflect upon Christ’s suffering and contemplate his sacred wounds, we see an outpouring of God’s love and mercy upon us. Truly, we can say, “By his wounds we are healed.”