Francis of Assisi famously gave up a life of luxury in favor of a life defined by the imitation of Christ's poverty, piety and service. As part of that service, Francis washed the wounds of lepers, whose status as outcasts had scarcely improved in the twelve centuries since Jesus had ministered to them. Predictably, Francis's close contact with lepers over many years led to him contracting leprosy himself. In his final years, Francis labored through intense pain and suffering to carry out his ministry.
Given the stigma attached to leprosy in those days, it's not surprising the early Franciscans constructed a myth to explain their founder's illness. Their myth -- that Francis bore the stigmata, or the wounds of Christ -- was accepted as history for centuries. Even those who did not believe the Franciscans' account believed that Francis claimed to bear the stigmata. Secular people who would otherwise have been inspired by Francis's example were turned away by what must have appeared to be cult-like veneration of him by his followers. Thankfully, modern Franciscans have reclaimed Francis's true history -- if the subject interests you, Reluctant Saint is an excellent biography, written by a Franciscan disinclined to place his order's founder on a pedestal.
In their efforts to lionize heroes of history, myths often obscure what makes those heroes worthy of emulation. Modern histories of Abraham Lincoln (Team of Rivals is a great one) paint a picture of a frontier lawyer with uncanny interpersonal skills -- a picture that is both more remarkable and more relatable than the fairy tales about "Honest Abe" I was told as a child. Similarly, although the true story of St. Patrick is largely lost to history, surely the tale of the man who Christianized Ireland must be far greater than a fictional story about banishing snakes from the island. (For example, what little we know historically about Patrick suggests he was a forceful advocate for the rights of women.) In more modern times, the myth of Mother Teresa as a woman with a connection to God that none of us ordinary folk could hope to achieve was shattered after her death, when her memoirs revealed that she endured for decades without any sense of the presence of God in her life. In each case, the myths about these legendary figures don't measure up to the reality.
Myths obscure great real-life stories of courage, but more importantly, they obscure ways in which we can emulate our heroes.
-- None of us can imagine being "Honest Abe," but all of us can imagine ways we can better tend to our personal relationships. Such tending will change our lives -- and perhaps the world -- for the better.
-- None of us can imagine having God magically imprint wounds on our hands and feet, but perhaps we can imagine devoting our lives to doing what we believe to be right.
-- None of us can imagine having a direct line of communication with the Almighty, but we can certainly do our best to go about our daily business in a dedicated and upright fashion while we await a call from some higher power (or not, depending on your beliefs).
Each of us could use to do a little myth-busting in our personal lives. Society is a little more tricky -- like the medieval Franciscans, our collective life sometimes benefits from myths that make us better than we actually are. We must take care, however, that such myths do not obscure the ways in which our heroes are worthy of emulation.
This is an important lesson for us in Europeia. What President takes office here and attempts to emulate Lexus? What new citizen tries to model him/herself after Lethen? Ironically, in lauding these regional figures as heroes, we discourage their successors from emulating them, because they assume they could never measure up. Lexus himself was a wise teacher in this regard, pointedly noting his failures and lauding the successes of more recent (and less revered) leaders.
In life and in NS, let's remember how our heroes earned that status. And instead of venerating them, let's emulate them -- it's better for us, and it's a more fitting tribute to them.
Given the stigma attached to leprosy in those days, it's not surprising the early Franciscans constructed a myth to explain their founder's illness. Their myth -- that Francis bore the stigmata, or the wounds of Christ -- was accepted as history for centuries. Even those who did not believe the Franciscans' account believed that Francis claimed to bear the stigmata. Secular people who would otherwise have been inspired by Francis's example were turned away by what must have appeared to be cult-like veneration of him by his followers. Thankfully, modern Franciscans have reclaimed Francis's true history -- if the subject interests you, Reluctant Saint is an excellent biography, written by a Franciscan disinclined to place his order's founder on a pedestal.
In their efforts to lionize heroes of history, myths often obscure what makes those heroes worthy of emulation. Modern histories of Abraham Lincoln (Team of Rivals is a great one) paint a picture of a frontier lawyer with uncanny interpersonal skills -- a picture that is both more remarkable and more relatable than the fairy tales about "Honest Abe" I was told as a child. Similarly, although the true story of St. Patrick is largely lost to history, surely the tale of the man who Christianized Ireland must be far greater than a fictional story about banishing snakes from the island. (For example, what little we know historically about Patrick suggests he was a forceful advocate for the rights of women.) In more modern times, the myth of Mother Teresa as a woman with a connection to God that none of us ordinary folk could hope to achieve was shattered after her death, when her memoirs revealed that she endured for decades without any sense of the presence of God in her life. In each case, the myths about these legendary figures don't measure up to the reality.
Myths obscure great real-life stories of courage, but more importantly, they obscure ways in which we can emulate our heroes.
-- None of us can imagine being "Honest Abe," but all of us can imagine ways we can better tend to our personal relationships. Such tending will change our lives -- and perhaps the world -- for the better.
-- None of us can imagine having God magically imprint wounds on our hands and feet, but perhaps we can imagine devoting our lives to doing what we believe to be right.
-- None of us can imagine having a direct line of communication with the Almighty, but we can certainly do our best to go about our daily business in a dedicated and upright fashion while we await a call from some higher power (or not, depending on your beliefs).
Each of us could use to do a little myth-busting in our personal lives. Society is a little more tricky -- like the medieval Franciscans, our collective life sometimes benefits from myths that make us better than we actually are. We must take care, however, that such myths do not obscure the ways in which our heroes are worthy of emulation.
This is an important lesson for us in Europeia. What President takes office here and attempts to emulate Lexus? What new citizen tries to model him/herself after Lethen? Ironically, in lauding these regional figures as heroes, we discourage their successors from emulating them, because they assume they could never measure up. Lexus himself was a wise teacher in this regard, pointedly noting his failures and lauding the successes of more recent (and less revered) leaders.
In life and in NS, let's remember how our heroes earned that status. And instead of venerating them, let's emulate them -- it's better for us, and it's a more fitting tribute to them.
