Writing in the foreword to the new book St. Clare of Assisi: Light from the Cloister, Mother Rosella Chiara Mancinelli, OSC, a Poor Clare (one of Saint Clare’s spiritual daughters), writes: “May this book be like a mirror for you, and may the light of the Gospel — lived and reflected so brightly by Chiara — illuminate you and reflect your own story and calling.”
What can the life of Saint Clare, whose memorial is celebrated on August 11, teach us today? Bret Thoman — a husband, father, and secular Franciscan who was born in America but lives in Italy and runs a pilgrimage company with his wife — talks about Saint Clare, his new book about her, and her message for today.
Kathryn Jean Lopez: What was “light” about Saint Clare?
Bret Thoman: In the medieval Legend of Saint Clare, the author says that Clare’s mother experienced a difficult labor. But the Holy Spirit told her not to be afraid, that she would “give birth in safety to a light that will give light more clearly than light itself and shine brilliantly in the world.” Thus, her mother named her daughter “light” — Clara (in Latin), Chiara (in modern Italian), Clare in English.
From early childhood, Clare was known by all for her holy life. She would embody the Scripture that says, “You are the light of the world. A city set on a mountain cannot be hidden.” When she was 18 years old, Clare desired to follow Saint Francis of Assisi, and she embraced the enclosed life within the little church of San Damiano. Yet she did so in an evangelical manner. Instead of retreating or withdrawing from the world, she sought to be an example of holy living within the monastic walls. In this way, she was a “light from the cloister,” the subtitle of my book.
Lopez: What can we afford to learn from the humility of Saint Clare?
Thoman: Humility is closely connected to poverty, which is at the heart of Clare’s life experience. In the early years, the sisters of San Damiano were known as “Minorities” (like Francis’s brothers, who were called “Friars Minor”). “Minor” is a Latin word for “lesser.”
When she left the wealth of her noble family, she was taking literally what Scripture says: “If you want to be perfect, go, sell what you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasures in heaven.” She renounced her noble status and became a poor commoner. In this, she took on a new identity, shedding her birth rights and becoming something she was not — something lesser.
And she did all this in imitation of her beloved Christ, who also became lesser when he “emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men” (Philippians 2:7). Christ, who is of the same divine substance as the Father-Creator, became a created man — lesser.
Throughout the ages, many have followed in the footsteps of Francis and Clare, renouncing their wealth to live in poverty. Of course, not all of us are called to literal poverty, but their examples can show us how we, too, are called to humility.
Lopez: What should we learn about prayer from Saint Clare?
Thoman: In two of Clare’s letters to Saint Agnes of Prague, she wrote, “Gaze, consider, contemplate, and imitate” Christ in his poverty on the cross. Since the letters were written 20 years apart, it is believed that Clare reflected on these words for a long time.
Some have suggested this as a four-step prayer exercise, similar to the monastic practice of lectio divina, or prayerfully reading Scripture. For anyone looking for a more Franciscan way of praying, you may wish to explore this.
Lopez: You’ve written previously about Saint Francis and reform in the Church. What was Saint Clare’s role in this?
Thoman: Saint Clare shows us how charism and institution can be complementary and not inherently conflicted, as some automatically assume. She was obedient to the charism she received from the Holy Spirit (poverty), as well as to the religious authorities within the institution of the Church (bishops and popes).
The reality was that Clare’s vision for her life — living with no land, rents, money, or dowries — was a novelty, and the authorities of the day (religious, but also civic) were deeply skeptical. Women’s monasteries needed to run efficiently, because they were important to the Church, as well as to the cities. Therefore, over the course of her life, three rules were written for her by a cardinal and two popes. They were Benedictine, and they didn’t adequately express the life she believed she was called to live.
Clare’s vision for her life — living with no land, rents, money, or dowries — was a novelty, and the authorities of the day (religious, but also civic) were deeply skeptical.
Clare believed that God had called her to a different life, an idea she vigorously defended. Her struggle was to find a way to integrate that charism into the canonical structure of the Church. Finally, she wrote her own rule, which was accepted by the Church on her deathbed.
In that rule and life experience, Saint Clare shows us a healthy and positive way to bring reform into the Church. The way she lived poverty was a witness to the countless well-endowed abbeys and monasteries. She demonstrated to the Church a more sober and evangelical way to live. And many began to embrace her way of life.
Lopez: Could Francis have done what he did without Clare? What can we learn from their friendship in these times when, perhaps, everything is oversexualized? What can they teach us not only about the plausibility of chastity but the need for it in the world?
Thoman: I live in Loreto, Italy, next to a retreat center run by Franciscan friars in collaboration with the sisters of Alcantara. It is a joy to observe the way these men and women relate to each other: They are affectionate and playful with one another, fraternal and tender. They minister to young people and show them with their lives how chastity and purity lead to true joy.
I believe the relationship between Francis and Clare was like this. Sources say that Francis turned to Clare to help him discern important questions in his life, and we know that he served as a spiritual director for Clare up until his death. They surely loved one another deeply. We see this special relationship in other twin souls as well: Scholastica and Benedict of centuries earlier, Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross, and Jane Frances de Chantal and Francis de Sales.
Certainly, they were all united by the mystical encounter they had experienced with Christ. Yet — and this is a lesser-known aspect of their stories — Clare and Francis shared a ministry of suffering. I can imagine Clare offering her sufferings (she was bedridden with a mysterious illness for 29 years) for Francis and the brothers as they worked to bring souls to Christ. Only someone wholly unfamiliar with the mystical life would assume anything romantic (or otherwise) between Francis and Clare.
Chastity doesn’t get a lot of respect in this day and age. Yet it remains a special, and beautiful, virtue.
Lopez: We are a people of short attention spans. If people had one takeaway from your book about Saint Clare, what would you pray it might be?
Thoman: Reading about the lives of the saints is an ancient devotional practice. Discovering the saints’ lives and the way they lived the gospel in their milieu can be like a mirror, to use Clare’s phrase, in which we can see ourselves and our own era reflected back at us. Through their stories, we can discern God’s will for us today.
Virtually everyone knows at least something about Saint Francis, but few know Clare. In my book, I set out to make known this enigmatic female counterpart of his and to tell her story. I want people to know that she was a saint in her own right and is much more than that hidden figure always in Francis’s shadow. She truly was a light, and I think what she has to say will surprise many.
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