Saint Francis in Budapest

A Gradual Dawning

A few weeks ago my husband and I stepped inside the Inner-city Parish Church of the Blessed Virgin Mary in Budapest. It was a Sunday afternoon, and the church was open for prayer. We took the opportunity to pray in the upright wooden pews, and then tiptoed around the perimeter and peeked in the side chapels.

My heart skipped a beat when Mark pointed out the statue of Saint Francis and the wolf. I quickly took out my drawing pad and did a quick sketch with my ballpoint pen.

Here is my sketch—that is a halo above St. Francis’ head.

It was delightful--I felt that each line was a prayer reaching up to God, asking to capture his beauty. I was inspired by a post I had just read by Makoto Fujimura, saying that he feels each of his painting brush strokes is a prayer.

Saint Francis looks peaceful and handsome. The wolf looks fierce and happy; he wears a broad grin as he looks up at Saint Francis with his lips pulled back and his fangs protruding. I was attracted to the wolf’s curly fur and even wondered if the sculptor implied lamb-like characteristics of the wolf converted by St. Francis’ kindness. I noticed that Francis's cincture swings joyfully about him and his prayer beads drape sensually to his knee.

I was pleasantly surprised that the sculpture was similar to a painting and a drawing I had created years before.

Francis is known for preaching to ordinary people and for caring for all of God’s creatures.

Francis’ calling came under a crucifix in the ruined chapel of San Damiano, where he heard the voice of Christ:

The open eyes of Jesus on the cross seemed to lock him in a stare that was both intimidating and beckoning at the same time. He couldn’t look away as feelings of doubt and fear, guilt and desire welled up within him. “Lord, what do you want me to do?” he asked. “Show me what you want me to do with my life.”

And the Lord answered! A voice as clear as the day responded: “Francis, go and rebuild my church which, as you see, is falling down.”[i]

This vision had both an immediate clarity and a gradual dawning.

At first Francis carried heavy stones to re-build nearby broken-down churches. Then he came to realize that the church as a human and divine institution needed to be rebuilt in a way that breathed God’s life and love into all people. Francis preached to the powerful and to the and poor. He preached of God’s love to large and small creatures—to alighting larks and wild wolves. Saint Francis believed this was part of his call.

Here is my more playful painting of St.Francis. The wolf wears a square halo to indicate he is an “ordinary saint.” It was sold in a show in Ned Bustard’s Square Halo Gallery in Lancaster, PA: https://www.squarehalobooks.com/sq-gallery/zc9i37vfyzerrb30p3lag27y7jw4p8

I am encouraged that even for St. Francis, his call came gradually. It seems our paths are often illumined one step at a time, as if by a lamp in a dark place. As the psalmist writes:

Thy word is a lamp to my feet
    and a light to my path. (Psalm 119:105).

A kind Saint Francis with piercing eyes stands outside of St. Matthias Church in Budapest.

May these musings re-affirm your creative calling, and may you know the Lord is with you as you take the next step in following Christ. Each of us has a part in sharing God’s love in word and deed.

You too are called “to offer all the things of creation back to God in love.”[ii]

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[i] https://stfrancisnyc.org/francis-rebuild-my-church/, last accessed September 16, 2024.

[ii] David O. Taylor, Open and Unafraid: the Psalms as a Guide to Life (Nashville: Nelson Books, 2020), 179.