That’s one tough king. Hard to satisfy. But in truth, Jesus our King, the King of the Universe, is not hard to satisfy. All we need to do is extend empathy; compassion; mercy; forgiveness; love your neighbor; feed the poor; defend life in all its stages, from the unborn to the elderly sick who are dying. All we need to do to satisfy Jesus the King is listen and heed his words; “Be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” What’s so hard about that? I bet at least half of you are perfect. Or at least you think so. I read a novel on St. Francis this past week as I did my annual retreat in the quiet and solitude of New Hampshire in the White Mountains. I didn’t want to leave. But Jesus said, “Excuse me sir, get in your car and drive 150 miles south to beautiful, noisy Grove St.” “You’re the boss,” I said. In the novel written on St. Francis, which touches on many of the real situations of his life, one part that stood out was the name that St. Francis called himself quite often. Actually, he had two surnames for himself. The first one, which I will slightly alter since we are in Church, was the name synonymous with Bother Donkey. There’s another word for donkey I will not say here. And that’s the word he called himself, meaning Brother Donkey. The second name St. Francis called himself when he realized he was too puffed up, or too filled with pride, when not giving God all the credit when his newly found Order was running on all cylinders, was the name worm. And when St. Francis called himself a worm; “I am a worm and no man,” he meant it. There was no false humility. Whenever he arrived too close to that border, at the edge of thinking he was somehow good and perfect, he would bring himself down faster than you can say “Lickety Split.” His purpose was to bring himself back, through the grace of God, to emptying out any overhanging pride in the success of his Order, returning to ground zero where Christ is all. Where Jesus is running the show, and the Franciscan Order. Where our Savior is the director of this opera. Where the Crucified One is the impetus behind the Kingdom of God spreading like wildfire in our lives. Wouldn’t it be just heavenly if we all did so? That each of us spread the Kingdom of God like a scorched earth policy. Spreading the Kingdom throughout families, communities, and nations the love of God that is found in Christ Jesus our Lord. That can make a person feel really tiny, realizing what little we accomplish at the end of the day. So, who wants to be a Saint now? I am a worm. But a worm that God loves unconditionally. There was one worm who wormed his way into the wedding banquet of the king’s son. “Go out into the streets,” the king said, “and invite everyone you see. The blind, the lame, the crippled, the beggars, the prostitutes and tax collectors, even Matthew sitting at his post. Invite also a couple UPS drivers.” God help us! And there in the midst of this large group of invitees is one guy still wearing his brown uniform. Just about the same color as a worm. And we know why he showed up wearing his uniform… He had to work overtime the night of the wedding banquet because of all those goods you people order online. After being invited by one of the king’s servants he said, “I need to finish my deliveries so I can get to the wedding banquet, the biggest party in town. I don’t want to miss out on it.” He enters the hall. The groom’s father, who is the king, sees what looks to be a guy wearing a brown uniform, with brown hat and brown socks to match. He walks over to this guy dressed like a worm and says, “That’s not a wedding garment. You insult my son wearing those company manufactured clothes. Time to throw you out. You can go eat at McDonald’s for the rest of your life.” (Talk about Purgatory!). And St. Francis got tossed out. Who is this king who would throw out St. Francis because he’s not dressed properly for the wedding banquet? You know what I think? (I’m glad you asked.) I think this king is not the king we think he is. He’s not the King of Heaven. He’s the king of materialism. The king of profit. The king of the external. The king who judges the outside. He’s the king who subscribes to the dictates of this world. And there was only one type of person he could toss out of his son’s wedding banquet. And that person was a Saint. Getting tossed out of this type of wedding banquet was the best thing that could have happened to St. Francis, lest he become more than a worm. St. Francis, and many other Saints in the Communion, perfected humility to an extreme we will never know, likely. There may be one or two of us. Maybe. Either way, getting tossed out of certain types of banquets in this life, banquets that do not hold to a Christian life, is a very good thing. Sometimes getting tossed out serves our eternal well-being. Even if we have to eat at McDonald’s once in a while in a brown suit. “I am a worm and no man.” Thank you, St. Francis, for a really good retreat.