The Philosopher's Cloak

  Francis was a beggar and poet. His father was in commerce, and Francis was a soldier. Yet he decided to devote his life to Christ. He did this by preaching the Gospel to all of creation. His successor Anthony would even preach to fish. Francis too is associated with animals. Many non-Catholics even show reverence to him by displaying a statue of him in their gardens. Francis was not a 60’s hippy. Rather he was a man touched by the Gospel. He roamed the streets of the Italian villages and towns and cities and country begging for food. Not only for himself but for the other poor. A man would give him a half eaten piece of bread or chicken and he would hold it out, showing it to the poor to come take and eat. If they would not eat then he would huddle in the corner and eat. After all a man has to eat. Yet there’s something poetic about Francis life. It’s not disgusting and repulsive. It’s moving. It’s difficult. It’s against the grain. It’s what attracts men and women to Franciscan ...

  Philosophy is not opining, or complaining. It’s not jeering or sneering. It’s not to be taken lightly or devoid of meaning. The skeptic is the philosopher’s enemy. Philosophy is a journey and a striving. It’s not anthema to religion. It discovers religion. It discovers the supernatural. It needs the supernatural. Why? Because then the skeptic wins and the philosopher becomes the academic. The true philosopher is also the religious man. Though the religious man may not style himself a philosopher. He may indeed be a pastor of souls. But the philosopher that is someone to behold. Someone in the corner with the pigs and the mud, shivering in the cold. He is scared of the elements, but not afraid of them. He wants to be brought low to suffer and to feel. He waits for the slaughterhouse with the pigs so that others may feed off his life. A philosopher is bacon to the evil of the world. He’s not a hermit cloistered in a cell, copying down text. But rather the philosopher is shaking the...