Brother Leo

     I think we might look upon the relationship between St. Francis and Brother Leo in somewhat the same way as John, the Beloved Apostle, was to Christ.

     Leo, of all the brothers, was the closest to Francis. He was an unimposing shy little priest, who was chosen by Francis as his confessor and spiritual counselor. He also served Francis as secretary. He was a skilled penman, artistically so. He was the chief of the authors who knew St. Francis intimately. He was one of the three companions who wrote the “Legend of the Three Companions.” Francis called him his “Pecorello di Dio,” the “Little Sheep of God.” His writings, it has been said, were instrumental in preserving for posterity the message of St. Francis.

    Leo, unlike his namesake, the four-legged brother lion, was gentle and mild; yet, he could on occasion, assume a fierce attitude in defense of St. Francis. He was, if we may make the comparison, Francis’ faithful watchdog, happy just to be able to follow at his heels.

    One day he and Francis were going from Perugia to Assisi, Leo walking ahead and Francis a few paces behind. It was snowing heavily and they were cold and poorly clad for such a long and rugged walk in a blizzard.

    Francis called out to Leo, “O Brother Leo …” Leo turned his head a bit to indicate he was listening; then began the famous teasing and challenging litany of what did “not” constitute perfect joy.

     “The friars,” Francis sang out, “could give great example of sanctity to all, but that would not be perfect joy.”

     Leo’s breath was frosting the air as he listened expectantly for Francis to tell him what was perfect joy. But Francis was not ready yet.

    “O Brother Leo, if the friars were great healers and even could raise the dead to life …” This was It, Leo thought. But no, there was a silence.

     “O brother Leo, if they had the knowledge of prophets, Francis called in his lilting voice.

Now, Leo thought. But, again Leo sighed, for that was not the answer. “O Brother Leo,” came Francis’ voice again, “if they were great preachers.” And only silence followed this.

    Leo clenched his fists. He was slowly going out of his mind waiting for the rest of the answer, as only silence lay between them.

    Leo threw up his arms and whirled on Francis. “For God’s sake, brother Francis,”  he cried, “tell me what IS perfect joy?

    Francis’ eyes were merry as he answered, “Why brother Leo, if we came to the Portiuncula, and the porter opened the door to our knock, and bellowed that he did not know us, and then came out and threw us face down in the snow and kicked us three or four times, then went back inside and slammed the door and locked it, leaving us outside, wet and shivering and not knowing what to do next; THAT would be perfect joy.”

REFLECTIONS

    In our formation process, from these tales of Francis and his early followers, we as his followers should ask ourselves, “What does this tell me?”

    It tells me a few things about St. Francis: It shows his own patience in suffering … his humility and his physical endurance. And, that there was a little imp of merriment inside him, a great sense of humor underlying his seriousness and sanctity and his great affection for Brother Leo, his pecorello, his “Little Sheep of God.”

     And it should tell all of us, not just that this is an interesting little anecdote about St. Francis, but inside of that, just as it was inside the parables of Jesus, there is a message.

    What is the message? Ask yourself.

    This is what we should think about when we read these things. This is what helps us in our ongoing formation as Franciscans.  

    I toss this out to you to take home with you. In the light of this message from Francis, what is perfect joy for you in your life? Think about it and meditate on it. Take a hand in your own formation as a Franciscan and a Catholic.

LEO’S LIFE

    Leo was with Francis at La Verna at the time of Francis’ Stigmata, and for a period preceding that event.

    Francis had a great need for solitude at that time. He was in very poor health and had periods of despondency as well as anyone else. Some of the brothers were giving him a hard time.

   So, he went to the quiet majesty of La Verna Mountain. He took with him a few of his “disciples” as did Jesus at Gethsemane. Leo, of course, was one of them.

    Francis had a little cell apart from the rest where he could be alone. Only Leo was allowed to come near, to bring him a little bread and water now and then.

    This went on for a few days; but even that was not the complete solitude Francis craved, so he called Leo to him.

    “Leo,” he said, “stand in this doorway while I go up yonder and when I call to you, come to me.

    He climbed up the mountain, turned and called, “Leo! Leo!”

    Leo hurried to him.

    “Go back, and I will call to you again,” Francis said.

    He climbed higher. This time when he called, “Leo, Leo,” there was no answer. He was satisfied; he was truly alone.

    He had the brothers build a bridge of logs across a narrow chasm and on the other side they built him a rough cell.

    No one was to come near him again except Leo, who could come as far as the bridge only once during the day and once at night.

    Francis forbade Leo to come at any other time and never beyond the bridge.

    But one day when Leo came to the bridge and called to Francis, there was no answer. Puzzled, Leo hesitated, then crossed the bridge and looked into Francis’ cell. It was empty. No doubt wondering if Francis was all right, since he was in poor health, he began quietly to search the woods. He came upon Francis kneeling, his face uplifted. A great shaft of fire was resting on his head. Leo heard Francis say, “Who art thou, O my most sweet God, and what am I, but a most vile worm and worthless servant …”

    Very quietly Leo withdrew and was stealing away when Francis heard the rustling of leaves.

    Francis called to him to stop him in his tracks. Leo stopped, trembling with dread that Francis would be angry with him and wouldn’t want him for his companion any longer.

    “Why have you done this, little sheep?” Francis asked him.

    Leo hung his head. He was overwhelmed with remorse, but Francis was kind to him and said, “Know, brother Little Sheep, that when I said those words you heard, there was shown to me in my soul two lights, one of the understanding of myself and the other of the knowledge of the Creator. Now go, and don’t watch me any more.”

    This took place a few days before the imposition of the stigmata on his hands and feet and side.

    Leo was with Francis when he died as he was with St. Clare when she died. When Leo died, an old man in 1271, his eyes were closed by Francis’ very good friend, the Lady Giacoma Settisoli, whom Francis called Brother Jacopa. She died shortly after him and was buried beneath St. Francis’ tomb in the Basilica of St. Francis in Assisi. Leo is one of the four who are buried at the four corners of St. Francis tomb in that Basilica.

REFLECTIONS

    This ends my thoughts and reflections on the early life and conversion of St. Francis. My hope is that those who read about his life will want to follow his way and truly follow the Way of the Gospel.