Franciscan Rule And Life

 When Francis of Assisi told the pope that the gospel itself was his Rule, he wasn't being mystical or abstract. He was being ruthlessly practical. Imagine if someone asked you today, "What's your life philosophy?" and you answered, "I just try to do what Jesus actually said to do." It sounds simple, almost naive. But that's exactly the point Francis was making—and exactly why it's so challenging.

Richard Rohr in his reflection, Francis and the Gospel, describes how the teachings of Francis of Assisi became the foundation of Franciscan spirituality. Francis of Assisi (1182–1226) began his community with a clear intention: “The Rule and the life of the Friars Minor is to simply live the gospel.” The first Rule (the guide for the community’s way of life) that he started writing around 1209 was little more than a collection of New Testament passages. When Francis sent it off to Rome, the pope looked at it and said, “This is no Rule. This is just the gospel.” You can just hear Francis saying, “Yes—that is the point! We don’t need any other Rule except the gospel!” To be a Franciscan is nothing other than always searching for "the marrow of the gospel” as he called it. Francis believed the purpose and goal of our life is to live the marrow or core of the gospel. Honestly, the core is so simple; it’s the living it out that’s difficult.

Francis didn't mean studying the gospel or discussing it in theological debates. He meant something far more concrete. When Jesus said, "Give to everyone who asks," Francis gave away his possessions—not someday, not in a controlled, reasonable way, but immediately. When Jesus spoke about trusting God for daily needs like the birds of the air, Francis refused to stockpile food or money. When Jesus touched lepers, Francis embraced them, even though it terrified him. This is what he called finding "the marrow of the gospel"—the actual substance, not the outer shell. Think of it like this: you can read a cookbook and discuss recipes for years, or you can cook a meal. Francis chose to cook. The instructions were already there in the gospel. He simply decided to follow them literally.

This pure vision of life attracted thousands to a new freedom in the church and in ministry. Religious communities had become more and more entangled with stipends and rich land holdings. Members lived individually simple lives but were corporately secure and even comfortable. Francis saw that money corrupts ministry in subtle ways. When a religious community owns property and has guaranteed income, it becomes cautious. It protects its assets. It can't afford to offend donors. It makes "reasonable" compromises. Members might live simple personal lives, but the institution itself is comfortable, secure, and increasingly careful about not rocking the boat. Mendicant (begging) orders like the Franciscans were created to break that dangerous marriage between ministry and money. Francis didn’t want his friars to preach salvation (although they did that, too) as much as he wanted them to be salvation. He wanted them to model and mirror the life of Jesus in the world, with all of the vulnerability that would entail. Francis forced a different kind of life. His friars had to depend on people's generosity every single day. They couldn't retreat to safe, wealthy monasteries when ministry got difficult. They had to stay among the people, vulnerable and exposed. This wasn't romantic; it was often miserable. But it kept them honest. That is why many people often attribute the saying “preach the gospel at all times, and when absolutely necessary use words” to describe Francis’ desire to live the gospel in every moment.

By Francis's time, the church had built up layers upon layers of rules, traditions, and structures. Religious communities owned vast estates. Monasteries were wealthy institutions. There were detailed regulations about every aspect of religious life—what to wear, when to pray, how to organise communities.

Francis looked at all this and asked: "But what did Jesus actually do? What did he actually tell his followers to do?" The answer was shockingly simple: heal the sick, welcome the outcast, own nothing, trust God, love your enemies, serve the poor. No mention of land holdings or ecclesiastical structures. No elaborate hierarchies. Just direct, uncomfortable, vulnerable action. It's like someone today looking at a massive corporate church with budgets and committees and asking, "But didn't Jesus just gather people and talk to them on hillsides?" People recognized something real in Francis's approach. It wasn't more religion; it was less. It wasn't more complicated rules; it was radical simplification. Strip away everything except the core question: "Am I actually living the way Jesus described, or am I just talking about it?"