The Stigmata of St. Francis and St. Paul’s Theology of the Cross

Editor’s note: The following talk on the Stigmata of St. Francis was given recently at the Marked With the Wounds of Christ An Academic Conference on the Stigmatization of St. Francis at Franciscan University of Steubenville, celebrating the 800th anniversary of the Stigmata.

Introduction

My talk is divided into three parts. The first part will examine the key passages from the Letters of St. Paul, which speak of the crucified Jesus and the manner in which Christians are to be conformed into his crucified likeness. The second part will treat St. Francis’s love for the crucified Jesus. In this context, I will survey the various primary sources which narrate St. Francis receiving the stigmata. Third, I will conclude with a few suggestions as to our being conformed into the likeness of Jesus crucified. With this introduction in mind, I will now begin the body of my talk.

St. Paul: Being Conformed into the Likeness of the Crucified Christ

For Paul, baptism is the inaugurating sacramental event whereby Christians assume the likeness of Christ. Paul reminds the Romans:

Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were buried therefore with him by baptism into his death so that as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of God the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.¹

On the cross, Jesus put to death our sinful nature “so that the sinful body might be destroyed, and we might no longer be enslaved by sin.”² In becoming man, Jesus took upon himself Adam’s sinful nature, though he did not sin. On the cross, Jesus put that Adamic nature to death. Those who have been baptized into Christ’s death, those who have been buried with him, have been freed from the slavery of sin. Moreover, in rising gloriously from the dead, Christ assumed a new nature, and so “he will never die again.”³ Thus, not only do Christians, through baptism, die with Christ, but they also rise with Christ. “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has passed away, behold, the new has come.”⁴ Christians have been “conformed to the image of his [the Father’s] Son.”⁵ Having discarded their old Adamic sinful nature, Christians have become a new creation in Christ.

However, although Christians are new creations in Christ, they must continue to grow evermore into his likeness. Paul speaks of Christians “being changed into his likeness from one degree of glory to another, for this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit.”⁶ By the power of the Holy Spirit, Christians assume, more and more, the likeness of Christ. This growth in holiness, nonetheless, involves a constant spiritual battle. Paul declares: “We know that the whole of creation has been groaning with labor pains together until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.”⁷ The whole of the Christian life is a life of groaning in the Spirit—the groaning to be set free from our sinful nature and the simultaneous groaning to assume the fullness of their adopted sonship—a sonship that will find its eschatological completion only at the end of time.⁸ Paul always interprets his trials and struggles in the light of groaning and growing into the likeness of the crucified Christ. He informs the Corinthians:

But we have this treasure [of salvation] in earthen vessels, to show that the transcendent power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. For while we live, we are always being given up to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus may be manifested in our mortal flesh.⁹

Paul’s very life, with all its labors and burdens, manifests the crucified and dead Jesus, which, in turn, bodily makes visible Jesus’ life in Paul’s mortal flesh. To die with Christ is to live in Christ. Thus, Paul is confident in the salvation that comes through Jesus, his Lord and Savior. “I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me; and the life I live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”¹⁰ Although Paul still lives in the flesh, he knows that he has been crucified with Christ; he who put to death that flesh. So, in a sense, it is no longer Paul who lives, but it is Christ who lives in him, and so he lives a life of faith in Jesus, the incarnate Son of God—he who loved him and gave his life for him.

So much has Paul been conformed into the likeness of his crucified Savior that he can boast: “I bear on my body the marks of Jesus.”¹¹ Here, I believe that Paul is not employing a metaphor, that is, that he spiritually bears the marks of Jesus. Rather, his body physically displays the cruciform likeness of Jesus—the stigmata.

Thus, in Paul, baptism finds its completion. In and through baptism, Paul died and rose with Christ, and so he became a new creation in him. The stigmata testifies that such is the case. The old Paul has died. He has been crucified with Christ, and the stigmata bears witness to that death. Ironically, the stigmata, the sacred marks of Christ crucified, are also the supreme sign of life—the fullness of the transformative Spirit-filled life in Christ as an adopted son of the Father.

St. Francis: Being Conformed into the Likeness of the Crucified Christ

Like Paul, St. Francis, through his receiving of the stigmata, was also fully conformed into the likeness of the crucified Christ. The first account of this event is found in Thomas of Celano’s First Life of St. Francis:

While he was staying in the hermitage called La Verna, after where it is located, two years prior to the time that he returned his soul to heaven, he saw in the vision of God a man, having six wings like a Seraph, standing over him, arms extended and feet joined, affixed on a cross. Two of his wings were raised up, two were stretched out over his head as if for flight, and two covered his whole body. When the blessed servant of the Most High saw these things, he was filled with the greatest awe, but could not decide what this vision meant for him.¹²

That Francis “saw a vision of God” testifies that what he saw was of divine origin and not some human psychological illusion. Moreover, Celano’s account alludes to three scripture passages. The first is from John’s Gospel, chapter 3:13-17, where Jesus speaks of his being lifted up on the cross and that those who believe in him will have eternal life. The second refers to the Old Testament account that prefigures Jesus being lift up. Moses made “a fiery serpent,” and all who looked upon it were healed.¹³ The third refers to Isaiah’s vision in the temple. “Above him stood the seraphim; each with six wings: with two he covered his face, and with two he covered his feet, and with two he flew. And one called to another and said: ‘Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory.’”¹⁴

What Francis saw was the risen crucified Jesus lifted up, the fiery serpent who heals from sin all who believe in him. Moreover, and above all, Francis beheld the crucified Jesus portrayed as a glorious seraph with six wings extended. Francis was in the presence of the all-holy God. The earthly Francis was assumed into the heavenly temple wherein all cry out, “Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God of hosts.” According to Celano, while in prayerful contemplation of this vision, the marks of the nails in his hands and the wound in his side began to emerge on the body of Francis. “Just as he had seen them a little while earlier on the crucified man hovering over him.”¹⁵ As with St. Paul, Francis was now conformed into the likeness of the crucified Jesus Christ. He bore in his body “the marks of Jesus”—the stigmata.¹⁶ The stigmata, then, also testified that Francis was a new creation in Christ. The old Francis had died, and the new cruciform Francis was born. Again, ironically, the stigmata, the sacred marks of Christ crucified, are also the supreme sign of life.

Normally, when considering Francis receiving the stigmata, it is assumed that the reception was something that was enacted upon him by a cause exterior to him. As is often portrayed in paintings, the crucified Jesus appears to Francis as a fiery seraph, and from the wounds in hands, feet, and side, rays come forth and individually pierce Francis’s hands, feet, and side, thus conforming Francis into his likeness. Although Francis did have a vision of the crucified Christ portrayed as a fiery seraph, the conforming act did not come from outside of him, but it came from within Francis himself.

Thus, what was invisible within Francis, his invisible conformity to the likeness of Christ crucified, became visible through the stigmata. Bonaventure accentuates that the cumulative effect of Francis’s virtuous life, in all of its various facets, inextricably culminated in the stigmata:

This blessed man certainly appeared worthy to be marked with this singular privilege since his whole endeavor, both public and private, centered around the cross of the Lord. What else than his wonderful gentleness, the austerity of his life, his profound humility, his prompt obedience, his extreme poverty, his unimpaired chastity, what else than the bitterness of his compunction, his flow of tears, his heartfelt compassion, his zeal for emulation, his desire for martyrdom, his outstanding charity, and finally the privilege of the many virtues that made him Christ-like: what else stood out in him than these similarities to Christ, the preparation for the sacred stigmata? For this reason, the whole course of his life, from the time of his conversion, was adorned with the remarkable mysteries of the cross of Christ. Finally, at the sight of the sublime Seraph and the humble Crucified, he was transformed totally by a fiery, divine power into the likeness that he saw.¹⁷

What Bonaventure declares here is the same reality of which Paul speaks. “I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me; and the life I live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”¹⁸ Although Francis still lived in the flesh, he knew that he had been crucified with Christ. While Francis still lived, it was Christ who lived in him, and so he lived a life of faith in Jesus, the crucified incarnate Son of God. So, Francis could truly echo the words of Paul: “I bear on my body the marks of Jesus.”¹⁹

Likewise, as with Paul, Francis’s conformity to the likeness of Christ was a groaning and growing process engendered by the love of the Holy Spirit who dwelt within him. The more Francis grew in all the virtues, the more he contemplated the crucified Jesus, and the more he grew in love for him, the more he was conformed into his likeness. With the emergence of the stigmata, the old Francis had died, and the new Francis had come to birth—he was thoroughly a new creation in Christ. What began in Francis’s baptism, his dying and rising in Christ, came to completion in the stigmata. The stigmata bear testimony to this Spirit-filled transformation.

Conclusion

In conclusion, I want to make a few suggestions as to how the stigmata of St. Francis can affect our own relationship to the crucified and risen Jesus.

First, we must come to appreciate more fully our baptism. Baptism is the foundational act wherein we die and rise with Christ. We have become a new creation in him. Our old sinful self was put to death, and we now partake of Christ’s crucified and risen humanity. In and through our baptism, we have been marked with Jesus’ own stigmata.

Second, in the light of our baptism, we are to contemplate the crucified and risen Jesus, not because it is Franciscan, but because it is Christian. Paul grasped this, and Francis was cognizant of this as well. As I have mentioned on a number of occasions, Francis did not receive the stigmata from contemplating cows. If he had contemplated cows, he would have turned brown with white splotches, and sporting a tail. It is only in prayerfully envisaging Christ crucified that we, as did Francis, more and more, grow into his likeness. Interestingly, all the pictures of Capuchin Saints are portrayed with them beholding a crucifix upon which is displayed Jesus hanging on the cross. Through that contemplative act, they were being conformed in Jesus’ crucified likeness. When we pray, it would be good for us also to clasp a crucifix in our hands.

Third, our Christian life must be a life of groaning—groaning in the Spirit. Being conformed into the likeness of the crucified Jesus is not an instantaneous event. Our groaning begins at baptism, but it is a lifelong groaning. We groan to free ourselves from our old sinful nature, as we simultaneously groan to become a new creation in Christ. Like Francis, our life needs to be a life of groaning growth in virtue, the same virtues that defined Francis—gentleness, austerity, humility, obedience, poverty, chastity, compunction, compassion, zeal, and even the desire for martyrdom. The fostering of these virtues, and others, conforms us into the likeness of the crucified Jesus. We may never obtain the visible stigmata, but we will interiorly and invisibly have done so. We can, nonetheless, boast with St. Paul and St. Francis: “I bear on my body the marks of Jesus.”

Endnotes:

Catholic World Report