In talking with students over the years, I have been struck by how many desire to identify with role models by whom they might be guided and inspired -- men and women whose conduct of their lives is commensurate, morally and intellectually, with their own most selfless aspirations."
These words were spoken by College President James Freedman during his address at Convocation on Sept. 20. Accordingly, I believe now is a proper time to introduce a role model of mine, Francis Bernardone.
He is a figure from the 13th century, whom we first encounter as a young man of patrician background, son of the successful cloth merchant Pietro Bernardone. As far as our upbringing goes, many of us at Dartmouth may have something in common with young Francis Bernardone -- a solid, respectable background leading to a sufficient level of happiness and comfort earned by a decent amount of work and ingenuity.
Now, we at Dartmouth make plans for our future and chart the direction we wish our lives to take. With good luck and hard work on our side, we reason, there is no doubt that we should be able to carve out a comfortable future. We take comfort in this reasoning.
Yet, this stunningly mediocre promise of material satisfaction may not be enough for any of us. It should not be enough for we who feel the burning desire to change, improve, do something positive, something big, something that cannot quite be explained in words; we who experience an inner thirst similar to the wonder and awe awakened when one ventures out to the golf course on a cloudless, moonless October night; we who sense the vastness of our universe and respond, not by passively allowing ourselves to be swallowed up by the sheer immensity of the stars, but by actively yearning to take part in their workings through a perfection of our individual selves and projection into the luminous mysteries of life which we perceive in the night sky.
The question Francis Bernardone faced in the 13th century is one that we must face today: The question raised by President Freedman in his convocation address, "In a world in which luck or fate or providence or chance plays such a large part, in a world in which elaborate fantasies are evanescent substitutes for unattained satisfactions, how ought one to lead a life?"
While still a young man, Francis decided that he would not continue his father's business, but instead give up all he had and live a life of simplicity and joy in charity toward others. Rather than detailing the events of his life, it seems more efficient to describe some of the more memorable scenes of Francis's exuberantly colorful life. After forsaking all that he has, down to his very garments, Francis leaves his father and family business behind in response to a blazing inner inspiration. As G.K. Chesterton rendered this scene in his biography of Francis, "He went out half-naked in his hair-shirt into the winter woods, walking the frozen ground between the frosty trees; a man without a father. He was penniless, he was parentless, he was to all appearance without a trade or a plan or a hope in the world; and as he went under the frosty trees, he burst suddenly into song."
In other instances, Francis of Assisi can be seen leaping off his horse to embrace a leper or chasing down a beggar in the marketplace, giving him money and swearing before God that he will never refuse help to a poor man. As Chesterton wrote, "Never was a man so little afraid of his own promises. His life was one riot of rash vows; of rash vows that turned out right."
This Wednesday is a day to remember St. Francis of Assisi, his feast day celebrated by Roman Catholics. For we young men and women of Dartmouth facing the question of how we ought to lead our life, the figure of Francis Bernardone of Assisi should loom large in our mind and imagination. We can learn from his spontaneity, his joy, and his active love for others, all of which flowed from his love of God.
We can learn idealism from this master of ideals, this most humble servant and loving friend, this Medieval man who possessed the great wisdom to be able to say, "O Master, grant that I may never seek so much to be consoled as to console, to be understood as to understand, and to be loved as to love with all my soul."
