Probably all of you are familiar with the prayer attributed to St. Francis that begins, “Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.” There are all kinds of prayers that fall into broad categories like: “thanks,” “oops,” “help,” “make this wrong right,” “let the bad guys have it.”
The prayer we commonly call the Prayer of St. Francis doesn’t fit into any of those categories. It is an aspirational prayer. It is a prayer for transformation. It is also a prayer of commitment – a promise that we will cooperate with the asked for transformation.
There’s not a sentence of this prayer that I instantiate, but the one that really trips me up most often is this: “Grant that I may not so much seek… to be understood as to understand.” I want desperately to be understood, or at least not to be misunderstood.
I find that the lives of the saints manage to simultaneously inspire, encourage and remind me of how little I make of the life I’ve been given. One of my favorites is St. Marina.
Marina was born in Lebanon, sometime in the 5th century. Her mother died when she was quite young, so she was raised by her devoted and pious father. Her father planned to marry off Marina and then enter the monastery, devoting the remaining years of his life to prayer. When he shared his plans with Marina, she balked.
She didn’t want an arranged marriage. She wanted to live a life of prayer like her father. So, she shaved off her hair and dressed as a man.
Together, father and daughter applied to the same monastery, but of course, the daughter was presented as a son, Marinos. They were admitted to the monastery where Marina continued to pass for the young man, Marinos.
In time, the father of Marinos died. Shortly thereafter, one of the village girls near the monastery became pregnant and accused Marinos of fathering her child. Marina/Marinos didn’t answer the accusation, but rather took the child when he was born and raised him within the monastery. As you can imagine, the reputation of Marinos was in ruins. He was the subject of ostracism and abuse in town and even among his fellow monks.
It was not until after Marinos died and his body was being prepared for burial that the monks learned the biological sex of their ‘brother.’ Monastery and town alike, lamented the abuse they had heaped on Marinos.
I love that the day St. Marina is commemorated is June 17 – smack dab in the middle of Pride month. The roles and manners of gender have been and continue to be constricting. Much harm has been done to those whose way of life does not coincide with gender norms.
I celebrate Marina for more than the issue of gender non-conformity. Her willingness to bear the false accusations and unjust judgements of her community was more than the price she paid to live in a man’s world. St. Marina is one whose life richly embodies the prayerful aspiration and promise to seek to understand rather than to be understood. She trusted that there was One who loved her without limit, who knew her completely, and whose judgements are always just.
Prayer: Forgive the ways I love my reputation more than you or my neighbor.