Dante: The Central Man of All the World | Page 6

into the unseen. It has
been said of him in reference to his Divina Commedia, "The light of
faith guides the poet's steps through the hopeless chambers of Hell with
a firmness of conviction that knows no wavering. It bears him through
the sufferings of Purgatory, believing strongly fits reality: it raises him

on the wings of love and contemplation into Heaven's Empyrean,
where he really hopes to enjoy bliss far beyond that whereof he says."
(Brother Azarias.)
Leading the religious awakening of the thirteenth century and making
possible Dante's work at the end of the century were two of the world's
greatest exponents of the spiritual life, both signalized in the Paradiso.
St. Dominic characterized by Dante (Par. XII, 56) as "a jealous lover of
the Christian faith with mildness toward his disciples but formidable to
his foes," founded an order to be "the champions of Faith and the true
lights of the world." Even in its early days it gave to the world eminent
scholars such as Albertus Magnus and St. Thomas Aquinas, and it has
never ceased to number among its members great thinkers, ardent
apostles, stern ascetics and profound mystics. In Dante's time it was the
only order specially charged with the office of preaching and from its
founder's time down to the present day the one who acts as the Pope's
Theologian has been taken from the ranks of this order. Besides
preaching to all classes of Christian society and evangelizing the
heathen, the Dominicans in Dante's day fought against heresy and
schism, lectured in the universities, toiled among the poor, activities in
which the order is still engaged.
But perhaps the man whose spiritual influence was greatest in
medievalism, if not in all the history of Christianity, was Francis of
Assisi, who "all seraphical in order rose a sun upon the world." (Par. XI,
37.) Born at Assisi in Umbria in 1182, the son of a wealthy cloth
merchant and of Pica, a member of a noble family of Provence, Francis
grew up a handsome, gay and gallant youth "the prime favorite among
the young nobles of the town, the foremost in every feat of arms, the
leader of civil revels, the very king of frolic." A low fever contracted
when with his fellow citizens he fought against the Perugians turned his
thoughts to the things of eternity. Upon his recovery he determined to
devote himself to the service of his fellow man for the honor of God.
His renunciation of the things of this life was dramatic. To swerve him
from the new life his father had cited him to appear before the Bishop.
Francis, unmoved by the appeal of his father persisted in his resolution.

Stripping himself of the clothes he wore, the Bishop covering his
nakedness, Francis gave his clothes to his father saying, "Hitherto I
have called you Father, henceforth I desire to say only Our Father who
art in heaven." Then and there as Dante sings, were solemnized Francis'
nuptials with his beloved Spouse, the Lady Poverty, under which name,
in the mystical language afterwards so familiar to Francis, "he
comprehended the total surrender of all wordly goods, honors and
privileges." He went forth and attracted disciples. With these partaking
of his zeal and animated by his charity, he labored to make his
generation turn from the sordid to the spiritual, diffusing over all the
people a tender love of nature and God.
Among his disciples--great minds of the time--were Thomas of Celano,
one of the literary geniuses of the day, the author of the sublime Dies
Irae--a religious poem chanted to this day at every funeral high mass in
the Catholic Church, and frequently sung or played in great opera
houses,--Bonaventure, professor of philosophy and theology at the
university of Paris, Roger Bacon, the friar, the renowned teacher at
Paris and Oxford, Duns Scotus, the subtile doctor. In the Third Order
established for those not following the monastic life the membership, in
the course of time, embraced among others St. Louis, King of France,
St. Elizabeth of Hungary, and Dante.
He, towards the end of his exile, footsore, weary and discouraged,
buffeted by the adverse winds of fortune knocked, a stranger, at the
gates of the Franciscan monastery at Lunigiana. "As neither I nor any
of the brothers recognized him," writes Brother Hilary, the Prior, "I
asked him what he wished. He made no answer but gazed silently upon
the columns and galleries of the cloister. Again I asked him what he
wished and whom he sought and slowly turning his head and looking
around upon the brothers and me, he answered 'Peace.'"
The monks spoke gently to him, ministered with kindly and delicate
sympathy to his bodily and spiritual needs. His reticence left him and
his reserve melted away.