The Wolf of Gubbio

     This is the story of the Wolf of Gubbio as recorded in the  Fioretti di San Francesco.  While you read it, I would invite you to reflect on what it says about violence in our world.

     During the period around 1220 when St. Francis was living in Gubbio, a fierce wolf appeared in the country and began attacking livestock.  Soon the wolf graduated to direct assaults on humans, and not long after began to dine upon them exclusively.  It was known for lingering outside of the city gates in wait for anyone foolish enough to venture beyond them alone.  No weapon was capable of inflicting injury upon the wolf, and all who attempted to destroy it were devoured.  Eventually mere sight of the animal caused the entire city to raise alarm and the public refused to go outside the walls for any reason.  It was at this point, when Gubbio was under siege, that Francis announced he was going to take leave and meet the wolf.  He was advised against this more than once but, irrespective of the warnings, made the sign of the Cross and went beyond the gates with a small group of followers in tow.  When he neared the lair of the wolf, the crowd held back at a safe distance, but remained close enough to witness what transpired.  The wolf, having seen the group approach, rushed at Francis with its jaws open.  Again Francis made the sign of the Cross and commanded the wolf to cease its attacks in the name of God, at which point the wolf trotted up to him docilely and lay at his feet, putting its head in his hands.  The Fioretti then describes word-for-word his dealings with the wolf:

     "Brother wolf, thou hast done much evil in this land, destroying and killing the creatures of God without his permission; yea, not animals only hast thou destroyed, but thou hast even dared to devour men, made after the image of God; for which thing thou art worthy of being hanged like a robber and a murderer.  All men cry out against thee, the dogs pursue thee, and all the inhabitants of this city are thy enemies; but I will make peace between them and thee, O brother wolf, if so be thou no more offend them, and they shall forgive thee all thy past offences, and neither men nor dogs shall pursue thee any more."  The wolf bowed its head and submitted to Francis, completely at his mercy.

     "As thou art willing to make this peace, I promise thee that thou shalt be fed every day by the inhabitants of this land so long as thou shalt live among them; thou shalt no longer suffer hunger, as it is hunger which has made thee do so much evil; but if I obtain all this for thee, thou must promise, on thy side, never again to attack any animal or any human being; dost thou make this promise?"

     In agreement, the wolf placed one of its forepaws in Francis' outstretched hand, and the oath was made.  Francis then commanded the wolf to return with him to Gubbio.  At this sight, the men who had followed him through the walls were utterly astonished and they spread the news; soon the whole city knew of the miracle. The townsfolk gathered in the city marketplace to await Francis and his companion, and were shocked to see the ferocious wolf behaving as though his pet.  When Francis reached the marketplace, he offered the assembled crowd an impromptu sermon... With the sermon ended, Francis renewed his pact with the wolf publicly, assuring it that the people of Gubbio would feed it from their very doors if it ceased its depredations.  Once more the wolf placed its paw in Francis' hand.

     Thereafter, Gubbio venerated Francis and he received great praise from its citizens.  Many of them were convinced by the miracle and offered their thanks to God, going on to be converted.  This episode in the Fioretti is concluded with a note that the wolf lived for a further two years at Gubbio, going from home to home for sustenance and honoring the provisions of its agreement with Francis.  At its death the city was saddened, for even though it had slain so many it was a symbol of the sanctity of Francis and the power of God.  According to tradition, Gubbio gave the wolf an honorable burial and later built the Church of Saint Francis of the Peace at the site.  During renovations in 1872, the skeleton of a large wolf, apparently several centuries old, was found under a slab near the church wall and then reburied inside.

     Before St. Francis arrived, the villagers had bought into the Myth of Redemptive Violence, namely, that the way to deal with violence is to bring more violence against it.  It didn't work.

     We buy into this same Myth of Redemptive Violence when we say things like, "The only way to stop a bad man with a gun, is is a good man with a gun."  We buy into this same Myth of Redemptive Violence when peaceful protests seem to have no effect, and we turn in desperation to looting and throwing bricks.  Although we may not realize it, even when we despair and say, "What difference does it make if we vote?"  What we are, in effect, saying is that peaceful methods don't work.

     We lost a great and good man recently, Congressman John Lewis.  His example which has inspired so many was that he chose peace instead of violence.  He chose not to fight back against oppression, but also refused to bow to it.  His blood and witness were part of what made the Civil Rights Act possible.  It was the same choice Gandhi made.  It was the same choice Martin Luther King Jr. made.  It was the same choice Jesus made.

     The easy choice this world seems to default to is always fighting back.  Violence is the first response we try.  Yell angry words at your opponent!  Call him names!  Flip him off!  Honk your horn!  Throw a brick through a window!  Send in unmarked federal troops!  If you have been paying attention to the news recently, you have seen the Myth of Redemptive Violence unravel in real time.  Violence only begets more violence.  This is why the first step in making peace during any war is getting both sides to declare a cease-fire.  Only then can the work of peace begin.

     Being a peacemaker is often a lot more difficult and a lot more work than throwing a brick.  But if we can make peace and nonviolence our default reaction, it is so much more effective, and maybe in the words of Jesus, we will be called blessed for doing so.

Maybe It's God's Fault?

     If you haven't been wondering over the past few months what God has against us, you're probably one of the few.  With so much devastation and death wreaked on our world and this country by the virus and sheer self-serving political incompetency, only the most calloused could claim it is all part of God's good and loving plan for us.

     You may have never thought of yourself as a theologian, but you actually are.  Any time you sit and wonder about the nature of God (or what in the world God is up to), you are doing theology.  If you're having trouble reconciling what you see going on in the world around you now — the death, the hateful behavior toward others, the corruption — with a good and loving God, you're not alone.  It's nice to let ourselves off the hook by blaming everything on God, unfortunately, that's bad theology, a rookie mistake. 

     No one, when tempted, should say, ‘I am being tempted by God’; for God cannot be tempted by evil and he himself tempts no one… Do not be deceived, my beloved.   Every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift, is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.   — James 1:13, 16, 17

     It's understandable we bring God into the picture when faced with a reality that seems beyond comprehension right now.  God is, after all, pretty much incomprehensible no matter how many words we try to put around God.  Human beings, being what they are, try to make sense out of things.  We look for patterns.  This is why we see shapes and faces in cloud formations.  Unfortunately, this is also why without sufficient information, people tend to default to conspiracy theories.  We're just trying to make sense of everything, and to be fair, it's pretty tough right now making sense of what is going on in our world.

     There is an old Episcopal preacher story that goes like this: A terrible hurricane hit an island in the Caribbean.  A newspaper reporter was interviewing religious leaders for their take on why this happened.  She interviewed the evangelical preacher who said, "This is God's wrath being visited upon us for our sins!"  Next, she interviewed the Roman Catholic Bishop of the island who said, "It is God testing the faith of his people."  Finally, she went to the Episcopal Bishop.  When asked why this terrible event occurred to the island, the Bishop thought for a moment, but then shrugged and said, "It's hurricane season."

     Episcopalians tend to be pretty practical about this stuff.  Humans have evolved alongside viruses for millennia.  Right now, there's a bad one out there we are fighting.  That doesn't mean God is responsible for the hurricane.  But what we are responsible for is our reaction.  We are responsible for how we love and care for one another during this difficult time.

     While God does not cause evil, God seems to have a knack for bringing good out of the worst situations.  Think of the passion for racial equality and reform that has risen from the death of George Floyd.  Think of the humanity and witness of the diary that a young girl, Anne Frank, kept during the Nazi occupation.  Think of the thousands of nurses and doctors serving selflessly and at much personal risk every day during this pandemic.

     No, the hand of God is not in the hurricane, but we can have courage. The hand of God is in us...  how you and I care for one another, our kindness even toward strangers, and how we step forward to help heal this broken world.