As a Franciscan friar, surely you will indulge me if I begin this reflection with a legend from The Little Flowers of Saint Francis of Assisi. It’s the story, “How St. Francis Taught the People of Gubbio to Feed their Wolf,” a strangely humorous account with layer upon layer of meaning.

In a nutshell, the people of a little Italian town named Gubbio have a problem. The bloody remains of some of their townsfolk start showing up on the streets of their beautiful city when people awake in the morning. Since the citizens of Gubbio are a very proud people, they are convinced that a stranger passing through must be responsible for the terrible crime. Nevertheless, they begin to lock their doors at night. When more deaths follow, the same denial: no one in Gubbio could be responsible for such a thing. And then, someone sees a wolf wandering the streets one night after everyone has retired. The people realize that a wolf is living in the dark woods on one side of their fair city. Of course, this could not be their wolf because they never asked this wolf to come to Gubbio. Immediately, they begin to find ways to dispatch this creature.

After a number of futile attempts, the people get desperate enough to approach the holy man of Assisi who has a reputation for being able "to talk to animals.” St. Francis "speaks" to the wolf and gives the people what appears to be some strange and not entirely welcome advice. He tells the people of Gubbio that they must "feed" their wolf. At first, the people are not impressed with this suggestion and begin to wonder why they ever approached the holy man in the first place. But then, something miraculous happens. Bit by bit, people begin to leave food out for the wolf as he prowls the streets of their town.

The violent deaths cease, and it is not long before every man, woman and child has learned how to "feed their wolf."  As a result, the people of Gubbio are transformed. They become more easy-going, less arrogant human beings.

Is this just a sweet legend that makes us smile, made more for Disney than for real life? Or, is the story a lifemirroring parable? The people of Gubbio are haughty folk who blame their troubles on strangers, refusing to acknowledge that the problem is their own. Is the wolf their way of life? Does everyone have a hungry wolf inside?

What’s yours? What needs to be changed, healed, and tamed in your life? What’s ours? What needs to be healed in our nation’s life? What is its “wolf”? What about your community? Your city? Is the invitation of St. Francis the invitation to everyone with a wolf inside? Perhaps his invitation is to first acknowledge what you fear. In this way, perhaps you may come to a new and healthier understanding of yourself, of your country, of your church, and of your community. Maybe it is when we acknowledge the enemy, even feed him or her, that it is then that we tame the enemy.

As I write (August 10, 2006) war is raging in Iraq, Lebanon, Israel, Syria, and the Occupied Territories. Killing continues in Afghanistan and the Sudan, and the United States and Britain are on heightened alert for a terrorist attack.  We are living in a society which believes that our safety can only be achieved through domination, or others will seek to dominate us first. The world is not at peace. Moreover, on the home front, our cities continue to be torn by racial and economic discrimination. Is a living wage possible? Is health care for all possible? These are human issues and as such they claim our individual and our communal response. If we are to fulfill our vocation as believers, as faith filled people, our churches and synagogues and mosques must ask: “What does the city need? How can we help?” We can’t be paralyzed by the magnitude of the task.

One example of response is given by Tikkun, which means “reconciliation.” The Tikkun community of Christians, Jews and Muslims ask, “Where is our strategy of generosity? Don’t people have an enormous capacity for goodness and generosity? Can’t we recognize the humanity of the other? Can’t we repent and atone for the long history of insensitivity and cruelty to the other side?” What has proved unrealistic time and again – whether we are talking about the U.S. policy in Vietnam and Iraq or Israeli and Arab policies in the Middle East – is the fantasy that one more war will put an end to wars. The path to peace must be a path of peace. This is the belief, the hope, the challenge of Tikkun. Our well-being depends on the well-being of everyone else. This is not only the peace for which Jesus prayed, it is at the same time the path to that peace. There is within every man and woman the power for good.  We Christians call this the Holy Spirit. This Spirit was poured out upon us at the creation of the world when the Creator breathed into us a soul, making us in the very image of the Creator. Jesus calls this “breath of God-life” the Holy Spirit. It is given to us, each of us and all of us. The Holy Spirit, the Spirit of Jesus, is our Consoler, our Advocate for peace. The world does not give us this peace, if by the “world” we mean the spirit of domination and power, the spirit of aggression and control.

Are we the new people of Gubbio, haughty folk who blame our troubles on strangers, refusing to acknowledge that the problem is ours? Has the wolf become our way of life? What needs to be changed, healed, and tamed in our own lives, our nation’s life, or in our congregations? Is the invitation of St. Francis the invitation to everyone with a wolf inside? Perhaps his invitation is to first acknowledge what we fear. This may be the beginning of claiming that same Holy Spirit which is Jesus’ spirit of peace and reconciliation.

By Father David McBriar, O.F.M., Ecumenical Officer, Diocese of Raleigh