Advent Day 4: Clare of Assisi
Becoming Love
We become what we love.
Advent Day 4: Clare of Assisi (1194-1253)
The first time she saw him was at church during Lent. He was a magnetic figure: handsome, free-spirited, confident. Afterward, she couldn’t stop thinking about him—his voice, how he dressed, the words he spoke. All she wanted was to see him again. But there was no point asking her parents. They would refuse. So, she devised a plan. She wrote a message and passed it to a friend who knew someone who knew someone who knew him. Meet me at the chapel of St. Mary, Palm Sunday, midnight.
While the town slumbered on Palm Sunday, she crept from her family palace. Traveling under cover of dark, she crossed fields and ducked through orchards. When she finally reached St. Mary’s, he was there waiting for her in the flickering light of the altar candles.
While this might sound like the opening of a romance novel it is, in fact, the start of one of history’s great spiritual friendships, between Francis and Clare of Assisi.
When Clare’s parents discovered she’d snuck out to meet Francis, they were hardly less angry than if she had eloped. In fact, they were probably angrier. Their daughter had forsaken her inheritance and the life to which she was entitled (i.e. obligated)—marriage to a wealthy man and as many kids as she could produce—to cavort with a mystic. And not just any mystic, but Francis, the ne plus ultra of holy foolery.
That same day, Clare’s parents, accompanied by some of Clare’s would-be suitors, formed a mob and went to drag her out of the convent where Francis had taken her after they met. But Clare, already dressed the part of a nun, broke loose. In a dramatic display, she tore off her veil to reveal that she had shorn off her flowing blonde locks. For rich girls in the 12th century (or the 21st…see: Britney Spears circa 2007) this was the ultimate sign that you rejected mainstream values. Shocked, Clare’s parents departed in disgust.
It had only been a few years since Francis had also forsaken his wealthy family, donned the coarse brown beggars’ habit, and begun wandering the countryside preaching the good news of Jesus, healing the sick and feeding the hungry. Since then he’d attracted a sizeable following of men. Enough, in fact, that the pope had granted him permission to form an order (now called the Franciscans).
Francis was eager to see women get in on the act, too. The only problem: he needed someone with a heart for service, organizational skills, the desire to conform to the life of Christ, uncommon intelligence and spiritual depth. He’d met plenty who had some of these traits, but none who had all. Until Clare. In the years to come, the two would form one of history’s great spiritual partnerships. Like Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross centuries later, they needed one another to fulfill their spiritual vision, and each found in the other a true soul friend and confidante.
In the words of author Murray Bodo in his book Clare: A Light In The Garden,
She followed [Francis] because she loved the treasure. She heard him speak of what he had found, and a passage in her own heart opened up. They had found the same treasure in different caves, and they would share it with whomever they met in that sacred place below the surface of life. She was Clare and he was Francis, and together they would show the world its hidden heart.
While Francis expanded his order of Little Brothers in Assisi, Clare set out her shingle in neighboring San Damiano where she launched a religious order she called The Poor Ladies. Keeping with the Franciscan lifestyle, Clare’s days revolved around work and prayer. She went barefoot, slept on the ground, ate no meat, and kept almost completely silent. To most of us in the 21st century, this does not sound like a winning business plan. Yet many others, attracted by Clare’s obvious spiritual purpose and joy, soon joined the Poor Ladies.
Though Clare was a brilliant leader, she never grew comfortable with being a boss. She hated giving orders. In fact, because she believed her vocation was to care for others, she usually saved the hardest jobs for herself. When she referred to herself it was nearly always as a handmaid or servant.
The core tenant of the Poor Ladies Rule (a religious order’s governing principles) was poverty. But staying poor was a struggle, for in Clare’s day convents were popular repositories for the donations of wealthy families, thus ensuring the donors’ place in heaven. Or so the thinking went. For Clare this meant fending off constant offers of money and goods so that she could keep the other nuns’ eyes on the prize of the simple life.
Clare’s singular purpose was to imitate Christ. This meant centering love in every thought, action and intention. And not just showing love, but—like Jesus—being Love.
We become what we love and who we love shapes what we become. Let the love you have in your hearts be shown outwardly in your deeds.
This kind of love was entirely other-centered, a supreme identification with the needs of those around her. And those around her she saw as both a microcosm of the world and the imago Dei of Jesus. When she fed a beggar who came to her door, she fed the world and God. With a gospel worldview, Clare knew that what she did for the least of these, she did for Him.
This kind of life came with much trial. But for Clare, suffering much was just the price one paid for loving much.
Love that does not know suffering is not worthy of the name.
As the years passed, Clare and Francis’s mutual respect and admiration grew. For Clare, Francis was as close to a Christ-like figure as she ever expected to meet. For Francis, Clare was his woman of my castle, embodying the highest Franciscan ideals.
In the 1220s, as Francis’s health declined, he leaned on Clare for counsel and spiritual comfort. During a particularly rough patch, he moved to San Damiano and built a little hut next to her convent. Here he composed one of his most famous songs, The Canticle of Brother Sun and Sister Moon. In vivid imagery, praising Sister Water for being useful and humble, Sister Mother Earth for her sustaining powers, and Sister Moon for shining clear and precious, it’s easy to spot Francis’s feelings about Clare, his Sister in Christ who embodied all those virtues he saw mirrored in creation.
Clare helped care for Francis in his final illness. She knitted him clothing when it was cold, she fed him when he was hungry. When Francis died in 1226, she and the rest of the community was distraught.
We (took) note . . . of the frailty which we feared in ourselves after the death of our Francis. He who was our pillar of strength and, after God, our one consolation and support.
In the years ahead, Clare worked hard to grow The Poor Ladies. One of her most significant challenges came when Pope Gregory IX tried to make Clare give up her vow of poverty. His opposition to poverty came from kindness: he was concerned it was having a negative impact on the health of Clare and the other nuns. He even paid Clare an in-person visit to convince her to treat herself a little nicer.
Clare would have none of it.
Absolve me from my sins, Holy Father, but not from my wish to follow Christ.
Seeing she could not be moved, Gregory let her keep her poverty. But Clare now realized she needed to write and codify a more extensive Rule for her order. The final document, modeled after Francis’s Rule, emphasizes the non-possession of property, in imitation of Christ.
I admonish and exhort all my sisters, both those present and those to come, to strive always to imitate the way of holy simplicity, humility, and poverty.
This was officially approved by the pope the day before Clare’s death. It was the first Rule ever written by a woman, and remains the order’s Rule to this day.
Like Francis, Clare suffered a lengthy physical decline. In her last days, she was overheard speaking to herself:
Go forth in peace, for you have followed the good road. Go forth without fear, for he who created you has made you holy, has always protected you, and loves you as a mother. Blessed be you, my God, for having created me.
She died on August 11, 1253, at age fifty-nine. In her honor, the order she founded was renamed The Poor Clares.
Practice
Spiritual friendship and fellowship were vital to Clare. This showed up most significantly in her relationship with Francis. But she also maintained other mutually enriching friendships, some of which are known to us through her preserved writings. Like Francis, Clare had a knack for offering beautiful blessings. The most famous of these has come to be known as the Blessing of St. Clare:
May Almighty God bless you
May He look upon you with the eyes
of His Mercy and give you His peace.
Here below may He pour forth
His graces on you abundantly
and in heaven may He place you
among His saints.
For your practice today, either try your hand at writing out a blessing, or use Clare’s blessing as a lead-in to your time of prayer and meditation. In either case, if you feel inspired, dedicate this blessing to someone who has been a light along your spiritual path.
Holidays at Life In The City
All gatherings listed below happen at 205 East Monroe Street in Austin, Texas.
Sun. Dec. 8, 11:15am: LITC's original holiday musical, Make Room In Your Heart. Sat. Dec. 21, 6:00pm: Blue Christmas, a quiet service for the longest night of the year. Mon. Dec. 23, 6:00pm: Christmas Eve-Eve candlelight service...an LITC tradition! Sun. Dec. 29, 11:15am: Welcome 2025 with a fun, casual service.
Contemplation In The City
Life In The City’s contemplative community meets regularly to practice sacred traditions like Lectio Divina and Centering Prayer. If you’re in Austin, consider joining one of our gatherings. You might also enjoy our monthly newsletter in which we wrestle with how to live a spiritually-engaged life in the modern world. Read more here.
Ready For More?
Read the Introduction to the 2022 edition, to find out how my experience of September 11, 2001 became my gateway to Advent.
Read the Introduction to this year’s edition of The Heart Moves Toward Light: Advent With The Mystics, Saints and Prophets.
Find more mystics, saints and prophets in our Archive.
Feedback
Catch a typo? Have suggestions for mystics, saints and prophets for a future year? Leave feedback in the Comments below or email Greg Durham at greg@litcaustin.org.