Today August 11

Today is the feast of St. Clare of Assisi (1193-1253 AD), founder of the Poor Clares. Gilbert Keith Chesterton said of her story that had she merely run away with St. Francis, her "knight-errant," it would be one of the most famous and popular stories of book, music and stage. As it was, it is sort of glossed over because it was "merely" spiritual. But what a story! When she was 18 she heard him preach, she sought him out secretly and decided to escape form her castle and embrace -- really embrace -- Gospel poverty. In the middle of the night she and a female companion left via a secret door (one only used for the removal of the dead) from the family palace. She met Francis at the chapel door of the Portiuncula. He and his monks were holding lighted candles and led her to the altar, where she divorced the world and took (wholly uncanonical) vows of chastity, obedience and -- especially -- poverty. And she sealed the deal by cutting her hair and assuming a rough brown habit tied with a cord.

She was housed in the Benedictine convent until she could be established at San Damiano, where she stayed until her death. Francis wrote her (and the sisters who joined her) a short Rule, with a strict -- and completely vegetarian -- diet, which she often exceeded in austerity. Stories of her having dinner later in life with Francis (either with or without a heavenly light) are probably false, but it is true she housed and cared for him in his final illness. (He stayed in a little hut in the backyard; it was there he composed his famous Canticle of Brother Sun.)

She faced the disappointment of her family (who even tried to kidnap her from the Portiuncula), and had to fight clerics all the way up to the level of pope to keep her simple rule, saying when Pope Gregory IX offered to absolve her from the vow of such strict poverty, "I need to be absolved from my sins, but I do not wish to be absolved from the obligation of following Jesus Christ." He signed the bull saying they need never be required to possess property, and later, when Innocent IV tried again to mitigate the rule, she fought him . . . and won. Two days before she died, she received from this same pope official approval of her rule.

She lived simply, humbly, prayerfully. She was voted abbess and though she had all authority, she chose to kiss and wash the feet of the sisters when they returned from begging. She checked on them at night and even pulled up their covers when they kicked them off at night. She loved flowers and always kept the altar adorned with them and with fine corporals and altar cloths she had made by hand. She had great devotion to the Holy Eucharist and even took It to the wall surrounding the city when it was threatened with Saracens (in Emperor Frederick II's employ) and held It up, saying, "Does it please thee, O God, to deliver into the hands of these beasts the defenseless children whom I have nourished with thy love?" Inexplicably, the invading army turned and ran, in great disorder and with unaccountable injuries, though without a shot having been fired.

Stories are told, too, of her talking to the convent cat and admonishing it for dragging the towel when told to fetch it. And in her last illness she was able to mysteriously see the blessed sacrifice of the Mass even though she was far away, thus her patronage of television.

Her last words before she died were: "Go forth in peace, for you have followed the good road. Go forth without fear, for He that created you has sanctified you, has always protected you, and loves you as a mother. Blessed be thou, O God, for having created me." And then she passed peacefully in the 42nd year of her religious profession and the 60th year of her age.