The Living Crucifix: The Stigmata of St. Francis

 

Friar Afam Uchenna OSAJI, OFMCap.

On the 17th day of September every year, the Franciscan family worldwide, in union with the universal Church, celebrates the Feast of the Stigmata of St. Francis. The stigmata of St. Francis of Assisi, received at Mount La Verna on 17 September 1224 according to Franciscan tradition, stand as one of the most profound and tangible signs of Christian mystical union. To call Francis “the living crucifix” is fitting because, in him, the wounds of Christ were manifested not merely as a historical memory but as a profound bodily sign of his conformity to Christ. His life revealed that the Cross is not only something to be contemplated but also something to which one is called to be conformed.

Francis’ path to the stigmata was one of progressive identification with the crucified Christ. From the time of his conversion, he embraced poverty, humility, and self-emptying love as the form of the Gospel. He preached Christ who became poor for us and lived this truth without reserve. His devotion to the Passion was not merely sentimental but deeply embodied. His love for God was not superficial; it embraced his whole being and culminated in the stigmata. In his Admonitions, Francis repeatedly points his brothers toward Christ’s self-giving love and calls them to imitate Him. His nights were often spent in prayer before the crucifix of San Damiano, the same crucifix that had spoken to him years earlier: “Francis, go and repair my Church, which, as you see, is falling into ruin.”

Two years before his death, in September 1224, Francis withdrew to Mount La Verna in Tuscany, in central Italy, for a period of prayer, fasting, and contemplation. According to the traditional account, he prayed for two graces: to experience in his body, as far as possible, the pain Christ suffered in His Passion, and to feel in his heart the love that moved Christ to endure it. During this period, around the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, Francis experienced the vision that culminated in the impression of the stigmata. In a vision, he saw a man in the form of a seraph with six wings, crucified upon a cross. When the vision vanished, the marks of the nails appeared on his hands and feet, and a wound resembling that made by a lance appeared in his side.

Only a few people were privileged to see those sacred wounds during his lifetime. According to Thomas of Celano, one of Francis’ earliest biographers, Francis carefully concealed the marks from strangers and cautiously from those closest to him, so that even some of his brothers remained unaware of them for a considerable time. Thus, even the brothers who lived with him and his most devoted followers remained unaware of them for a long time.

Nevertheless, the stigmata of St. Francis should not be understood merely as a private spiritual experience. This is because the stigmata confirmed what Francis’ life had already testified: that he had become a “living crucifix.” His body bore the signs of the One whom he loved, making visible the invisible truth that the Christian is called to be conformed to Christ. For the Franciscan tradition, this event is central because it reveals the purpose of penance and poverty: not self-punishment, but union with Christ. The wounds became a profound sign of his conformity to Christ and a visible expression of the humility, poverty, and love that marked his life.

No wonder St. Francis of Assisi is traditionally regarded as the first person in Christian history whose stigmatisation was extensively documented and recognized by the Church, with contemporary biographical accounts and papal attestation. Theologically, the stigmata of St. Francis are of great importance because they bridge the gap between symbol and reality. The Cross is the source of salvation; in Francis, it became a profound sign of identification with Christ. He did not seek the wounds for their own sake, but because he sought Christ. In receiving them, he showed that holiness is not an escape from the human condition but a radical entry into it, following the God who chose to be wounded for love.

In conclusion, in a world that often treats suffering as meaningless, the image of the living crucifix embodied in the stigmata of St. Francis reminds us that love enters into suffering, giving it a new meaning and transforming it into participation in the suffering and redemptive mission of Christ. His stigmata remain a silent sermon: to follow Christ is to bear His Cross, and in bearing it, to become alive with His life.