“Preach the Gospel at all times, when necessary, use words.” These powerful, faith-based words to live by are attributed to my favorite Saint, Saint Francis of Assisi.
I am a weak sinner with many faults (as my wife Ashley will correctly attest), and absolutely love our Catholic Faith. We named our children after Catholic Saints, with our second-born son bearing the name (Saint) Emeryk (Saint) Francis.
He was the son of wealthy business owners who lived in Italy. The founder of the Franciscan Friars could have lived a life of luxury and comfort, but he dedicated his life to living Christ’s mission of serving and caring for the poor.
It is believed that during a pilgrimage to Rome, Saint Francis encountered a homeless beggar and was so touched by his suffering that he emptied his pockets and handed over everything he had.
That became the spiritual backbone of Francis’s life: selling everything he had and giving it all to the poor.
My local parish, Saints Rita and Patrick’s Roman Catholic Church, was run by the Franciscans. My entire life was spent at the church, being surrounded by Franciscan Friars. My mother, God bless her soul, saw the church and welcoming and loving Franciscans as an escape from the hell known as my home, which was full of raging alcoholism and dysfunction.
I was first an altar boy for Fr. Vincent Carroll OFM, who, many years later, died tragically in a car crash in the Bronx in 1998.
Fr. Vincent was replaced at Saint Rita’s by Fr. Ronald Pecci OFM, the great man who was the true father who raised me.
A biology major who loved the Beach Boys, Fr. Ron was a cerebral, academic hippie who truly lived the life Saint Francis wanted us to live.
Fr. Ron wore Birkenstock sandals at all times, even in the winter when shoveling snow. When I got my learner’s permit, he tossed me the keys to his beat-up jalopy with hundreds of thousands of miles on it, and let me drive for the first time.
The Franciscans, especially Fr. Ron had a profound impact on my life. I spent more time at the church Friary, far more than my own home. It was there that I felt unconditional love. Going back from memory here, Fr. Ron lived in a three-story Friary with shared bathrooms and one small twelve-by-twelve bedroom. He was a big man, literally and figuratively, and he never complained about having a bed where his feet hung off the end.
Any time Fr. Ron ran across anything he thought I would need, he always went out of his way to stop by my house and drop it off, whether it be a new pair of shoes or clothes.
In addition to modeling his existence after Saint Francis, Fr. Ron was also the epitome of 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18: "always be joyful, pray continually, and give thanks in all circumstances.”
The guy never, ever complained, was always happy, and was the richest guy I knew despite living a life of poverty and service. From a purely material perspective, Fr. Ron had nothing, but was blessed with everything a man could ever need to live an afterlife with Saint Francis and all the angels and Saints.
We buried Father Ron on the Monday after Easter Sunday in 2022. I’m still crushed that my earthly father is no longer with us.
It is quite fitting and not an accident (an accident is when God chooses to remain anonymous) that most of us woke up on the Monday after Easter to learn the sad news that Saint Francis died on Easter Sunday.
I remember the joy felt when Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio chose “Francis” as his Papal name. Yes, we must mourn his passing and give thanks for his life of spiritual service to Catholics around the world.
Even more fitting is honoring Saint Francis, Father Ron, and Pope Francis by doing our best to live our lives the way all three of them did: “Preach the Gospel at all times, when necessary, use words.”