St. Francis the Cradle of Greccio
Francis the Cradle of Greccio
WILLIAM HART McNichols, S.F.O.
When I was a child every church had its crib or creche which was set up in the sanctuary sometime during Advent. Now, every church in my hometown of Denver had its own Nativity display, but as far as my mother was concerned there was only one real crib to be seen, and that was the one in St. Elizabeth's, the Franciscan church. This is not to say the most elaborate or the largest crib, because other churches boasted hand carved, imported German and Italian cribs, but the Franciscan crib had an aura about it that you could feel from way back in the vestibule as you entered the church.
The crib drew you near with a natural silence and an almost tip-toe reverence, and I remember my mother dipping her fingers in the water font and then taking my hand with her moist and blest hand, and we walked down the aisle together toward the "little town of Bethlehem." The crib was on the right side, or the side of the Blessed Mother, and it was built upon a hidden platform which rose gradually upward from the communion rail, all the way up and over Mary's niche. There at the top was a mythic midnight blue sky with the great guiding star and scattered painted stars that somehow glowed. Below the sky was the tiny city of Bethlehem set on rolling hills with palm trees and odd little white adobe and stucco houses. Winding from the tap of the horizon, all through the poor little town, was a road which led to a cave at the base of the structure, and so the viewer was led without any words or direction by the stars and lights through the ancient city of Micah's prophecy, right into the cave of the Nativity.
There you noticed others were there with you, or well on their way. There were shepherds and poor women and children side by side with great ornamented kings of three distinct races, and they all had retinues of slaves, camels, and horses as well as gilded gifts for the baby. And there were lots of sheep and lambs-the faithful ox and ass-and all, whether they were human or animal, were bending slightly forward and gazing at the baby in the straw as if they'd just fallen in love. My own mother was pregnant at this time, and so we were on a double mission: to see the crib and also to ask God for a little girl; if he answered us the girl would be named Mary Elizabeth for the saint of the Franciscan church. "Did this father, St. Joseph, take his wife Mary to the hospital for the baby?" I asked. Then it was that my mother whispered the story we all learn, that this Child was actually born in such a poor cave just like things looked in the Franciscan tableau.
The story of Francis' crib at Greccio is so typically Francis that even though his was not the first crib, tradition has forgotten the others and with blind affection attributed the whole custom to the Little Poor Man. Actually the medieval celebration of Christmas was quite elaborate before the time of Francis. It originated simply with clerics acting as shepherds and midwives, and each would read a part or they would answer back and forth in antiphonal chorus. Gradually this developed into a regular cycle of scenes with three full acts which began with the Old Testament Prophets, continued through the events of the infancy narratives of the Gospels, the Flight into Egypt, the massacre of the Holy Innocents, and finally ended with a fully grown Jesus in a battle with the Devil. In 1207 Innocent III had to outlaw these pageants-they had gotten so out of hand-this is why Francis had to get permission from Pope Innocent, in 1223, to celebrate Christmas at Greccio in a special way. Hear now the loving description of Christmas Eve at Greccio by Francis' first biographer, Thomas of Celano:
The day of joy drew near, the time of great rejoicing came. The brothers were called from their various places. Men and women of that neighborhood prepared with glad hearts, according to their means, candles and torches to light up that night that has lighted up all the days and years with its gleaming star. At length the saint of God came, and found all things prepared: the hay had been brought, the ox and ass led in. There simplicity was honored, poverty was exalted, humility was commended, and Greccio was made, as it were, a new Bethlehem. The night was lighted up like the day, and it delighted the people and beasts. The people came and were filled with new joy over the new mystery. The woods rang with the voices of the crowd and the rocks made answer to their jubilation. The brothers sang, paying their debt of praise to the Lord, and the whole night resounded with their rejoicing. The saint of God stood before the manger, uttering sighs, overcome with love, and filled with a wonderful happiness. The solemnities of the Mass were celebrated over the manger and the priest experienced a new consolation.
The saint of God was clothed with the vestments of the deacon, for he was a deacon, and he sang the holy Gospel in a majestic voice. And his voice was a strong voice, a sweet voice, a clear voice, inviting all to the highest rewards. Then he preached to the people standing about, and he spoke charming words concerning the Nativity of the poor king and the little town of Bethlehem. Frequently too, when he wished to call Christ Jesus, he would call him simply the "Child of Bethlehem," aglow with overflowing love for him; and speaking the word Bethlehem, his voice was more like the bleating of a sheep. His mouth was filled more with sweet affection than with words. Besides, when he spoke the name Child of Bethlehem or Jesus, his tongue licked his lips, as it were relishing and savoring with pleased palate the sweetness of the words. The gifts of the Almighty were multiplied there, and a wonderful vision was seen by a certain virtuous man. For he saw a little child lying in the manger lifeless, and he saw the holy man of God go up to it and rouse the child as from a deep sleep. This vision was not unfitting, for the Child Jesus had been asleep in the hearts of many; but by the working of grace, he was awakened again through his servant Saint Francis and stamped upon their fervent memory. At length the solemn night celebration was brought to a close and everyone returned to their home with holy joy.
Daniel Marshall of The Catholic Worker said once that Francis turns the topsy-turvy world right-side up. In our blindness we think he's upsetting things; yet in fact it is the opposite. This is what Francis did at Greccio: he turned the upside-down world's values right side up. And in this way God uses Francis as a sort of "Cupid" or "Eros." The part of Cupid in the Greco-Roman mythology is to wound unsuspecting people with the arrow of passion or love at the bidding of his mother Aphrodite (Venus, or Love). At God's bidding the Little Poor Man wounds us with his prophetic acts, puzzling koans, street drama, or sometimes just an image of Francis in his utter simplicity can wound a soul incurably.
The wound is God's wound, and one powerful instrument of God for centuries has been Francis, who is also the greatest reformer of the Church as he shows us total dependence on God. He wounds us, and the wound becomes a search for healing which is the search for God. Augustine knew this wound hundreds of years before Francis and said: "Our hearts are restless until they rest in God."
Who in our topsy-turvy world could better understand God's deliberate choice of Bethlehem for his only Son, and the stark, impoverished cave? Who better than the one who had chosen voluntary poverty and who felt himself to be so poor a dwelling for the most Holy Spirit? Francis lived and held all these mysteries in his heart and body, and when they are shown to us in his simple way, the way of the Gospels, the impact is immediate, transforming and searing as the two-edged sword. Francis' words and actions that Christmas Eve came from such naked love and truth that the people present were pierced with them. They split right through the coverings of fear, guilt, pride, or doubt and opened and wounded many hearts. As the Stigmata revealed Francis as bearing Christ's passion, the Child Jesus come-to-life in the arms of Francis revealed him as a poor enough Cradle for the Word made flesh.
The Cord. December 1985. Vol. 35, No. 11, p. 323-326.
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