The Prayer of My Life
October 4 is the Feast Day of Saint Francis of Assisi. Each day, and especially today, I reflect on The Prayer of Saint Francis, also known as the Peace Prayer, which serves as one of my guideposts.
I’d been aware of the prayer since attending Catholic elementary school, but it first deeply resonated with me when my high school catechism teacher “gave” the prayer to me, saying, “This is your prayer.” I believe she was giving me a prayer for my lifetime, a guide, and a goal to aspire to.
One thing I like about this prayer is that I’m not asking God for something. I’m asking God to help me do something: To be an active source of love, forgiveness, faith, hope, light, and joy.
The prayer explains that I have the agency for change. I can positively impact what’s three feet around me and the people I encounter during my day. There’s a core idea in the prayer that aligns with one of my other guiding principles, the Golden Rule: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” But the Prayer of St. Francis goes a step further by asking me to initiate the love.
When I think about the second stanza and our current national climate, the line that resonates with me is, “Grant that I may not so much seek to be understood as to understand.” Deeply listening, not just waiting for my turn to speak, having empathy and compassion for others — when I’m at my best as a spouse, parent, friend, or team member, I’m flexing these powerful muscles.
I have copies of the Prayer of Saint Francis throughout my house, where I work, read (I even have it on a bookmark), and rest. I try to keep it present in my head and heart to remind me that while I’m here I need to take action to make my part in this world as good as I possibly can in even with the smallest, most intentional ways. Most days I fall short, but this prayer is also an encouragement. Tomorrow, another chance to do better, and here’s how.
The example of St. Francis also reminds me to get outside and experience the world. His reverence for all living things connects me to my most powerful church, the church of rivers, lakes, trees, birdsongs, and sunrises.
Before this pandemic shift, I had the fortune to spend part of the previous five or six summers in Boston. What an amazing summer city. It was on one of those visits during my traditional amble around the North End, that I wandered into a small courtyard by the Old North Church to find a weathered statue of Saint Francis. A visit to that statue and the small, quiet oasis in the midst of a bustling city has been a tradition since.
Though I won’t get back to the courtyard anytime soon, I will visit the church of the outdoors today with one or more of the dogs. We’ll feel the autumn breeze, listen for birdsongs new and familiar, and reflect on how we may start our week even in the smallest ways guided by the example of the Prayer of Saint Francis.
Who wrote the Prayer of Saint Francis?
Listen to Sara McLachlan sing the Prayer of Saint Francis.
The Prayer of Saint Francis
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace,
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
Where there is sadness, joy;
O Divine Master,
Grant that I may not so much seek
To be consoled as to console;
To be understood as to understand;
To be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
The statue of Saint Francis in a small courtyard by the Old North Church in Boston.
