Francis of Assisi’s Prayer Before the Crucifix does not start with “Woe is me” or some dark misery of the heart. Rather, it focuses on the glory and sublime beauty of God. I like to pray the text as composer David Haas sang it in his concert video, Glory Day. The musical setting helps me focus on the sublime.
“Most High, glorious God”: Just by saying the words in a spirit of praise, my heart grows lighter. I feel as though I’m swept up into the glorious presence of God! The prayer starts—as all prayer does well to start—with words of adoration.
Adoration has a way of lifting me out of my self-absorption and anxiety. Adoration itself helps enlighten the darkness of my heart.
I’m pleased that Francis uses the word heart rather than mind when he prays: “Enlighten the darkness of my heart.” The word mind takes me too much into my head. And that is not the real St. Francis. Heart is very much St. Francis. Heart suggests the complexities of human love and the mystery of one’s innermost yearning—with all its related joys and sorrows.
Francis, of course, had a heart very much attuned to the mystery of God’s overflowing love. Once, while praying in a solitary place, Francis had a vision of Christ looking at him from the cross with such intense and burning love that “his soul melted,” according to his biographer, St. Bonaventure (1221-1274). One can only believe that, after this soul-melting event, every time Francis prayed before a crucifix, he experienced a similar outpouring of God’s incredible love.
And when Francis asks in his prayer, “Give me right faith,” this right faith would somehow entail—or encapsulate—this same heart-transforming vision of God’s overflowing love, a love whereby God holds nothing back from us! That’s the kind of right faith that Francis—as well as you and I—requests in this prayer. And does not this right faith, which is the glorious core of God’s self-revelation, enlighten the darkness of our hearts?
Next, we pray with Francis for the “sure hope” that flows from “right faith.” And where is there a better place to find this sure hope than in the resurrection of Jesus? The disciples literally witnessed sure hope when the risen Christ appeared to them on that first Easter Sunday. I think especially of the Apostle Thomas in this regard. The risen Jesus so illumined this apostle’s doubt-darkened heart that Thomas, in adoration, proclaimed without hesitation: “My Lord and my God!” (see John 20:28).
Just as Francis sees Jesus on the cross handing himself over to the whole human family with a total, perfect love, so Francis asks that he may be given the same kind of “perfect charity.” This enables Francis to respond to God’s love with the same kind of total generosity. Francis further asks Christ to “fill me with understanding and knowledge that I may fulfill your command.” This “command” is really God’s glorious plan that all God’s children persevere in the love of Christ and someday rise with Christ into God’s loving embrace.
Franciscan documents of the 13th century indicate that the crucifix before which St. Francis prayed this prayer was none other than the famous crucifix in the little chapel of San Damiano, near Assisi. This beloved crucifix, familiar to followers of St. Francis worldwide, is known as the San Damiano Cross.
The body of Christ, as painted on this cross, is not bloody or twisted in anguish. Rather, his body is quite luminous, as if it were already risen, radiating the fullness of God. Instead of a crown of thorns, this image of Christ has a glorious halo. And his body with outstretched arms appears to be ascending to heaven. In short, the image clearly suggests the risen Jesus.
If, indeed, this was the image of Christ upon which St. Francis was gazing as this prayer arose in his heart, it makes perfectly good sense that Francis would address Jesus as “Most High, glorious God!”
O glorious God of overflowing love, enlighten the darkness of my heart!
Next month: The Memorare