One of the first things that Saint James tells us at the beginning of his letter, of his epistle, is this: “Consider it all joy, my brothers and sisters, when you encounter various trials, for you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance” (Jas 1:2–3).
In this line alone, from the first reading — and it goes on, it's a beautiful reading — but from this line alone, we have a beautiful illustration of the perfect joy that Saint Francis once spoke of and defined. Saint Francis spoke of perfect joy, one of the most important and, frankly, shocking little texts in the Franciscan sources, known as the Little Flowers of Saint Francis, the Fioretti, where Saint Francis once asked Brother Leo to write down what true, perfect joy really is, and he began by eliminating what we would instinctively think counts as joy. And he says this: if the Friars Minor were to give great example of holiness, if they knew all languages and sciences, if they converted all unbelievers, if they worked miracles, even if they raised the dead, this is not perfect joy.
Then he gives what real joy looks like. Imagine, he says, that after a long day of walking through mud, cold rain and hunger, we arrive late at night to one of our friaries. We knock on the door and the porter says, who are you? And we respond, we are two of your brothers. And he replies, you are lying. You are vagabonds deceiving the world. Go away! He refuses to open the door. We knock again. He comes out angry, insults us, beats us with a stick, throws us into the snow. Now, Francis says, if we can endure all of this patiently, without anger, without interior resentment, without murmuring, and even reflect humbly and say to ourselves, this man truly knows us, this humiliation is what we deserve, and we receive it all for the love of Christ, in union with his sufferings, with serenity of soul — that, says Francis, is perfect joy.
My brothers and sisters, today's Gospel links even more directly to what Saint Francis of Assisi calls perfect joy. The Pharisees come to Jesus and, I quote, “began to argue with him, seeking from him a sign from heaven to test him” (Mk 8:11). Notice they are not curious. They are not seeking truth. They are testing him. In other words, they are standing before God incarnate, God in the flesh, and still demanding his credentials.
And how does Jesus respond? I quote: “He sighed from the depth of his spirit” (Mk 8:12). That is an extraordinary detail. The Greek there indicates not irritation, but a kind of deep interior groaning, a sorrow that comes from being misunderstood, mistrusted, reduced to a spectacle, treated as though his love must be proven on demand. But what other proof could they possibly seek? He has healed the sick, fed the multitudes, cast out demons, preached the kingdom with accompanying signs of great wonders. By the time of this exchange, and still they ask for a sign.
This is precisely the kind of rejection that Saint Francis describes in the story of perfect joy — not physical suffering, but the deeper suffering of being doubted, being challenged unjustly, having one's sincerity questioned, being treated as though one's entire life of goodness is not enough. And what does Jesus do? He doesn't argue. He doesn't perform. He doesn't defend himself, doesn't prove his authority. He simply “left them, got into the boat again, and went off to the other shore” (Mk 8:13).
There's a kind of serene detachment here. He doesn't allow their lack of faith to disturb his interior peace and, more importantly, to disrupt his communion with the Father. This is perfect joy in action — to be able to endure suspicion, hostility, bad faith, criticism, the demand to prove ourselves, and yet to not become defensive, not to lose peace, not retaliate, not to withdraw our love and charity at the same time, but simply to continue the mission entrusted to us.
My brothers and sisters, we are called to embrace our own moments of testing, our own moments of being suspected, labeled, denied, rejected, disillusioned, confused with the same kind of attitude — to take it always to the Father, retaining our charitable spirit and not lashing out at the oftentimes bitter exchange for the goodness we try to do with others.
This isn't always going to be easy, and so I would like to send you a very special blessing to call upon you from God Almighty strength, peace, perseverance, and the wisdom to suffer all things for the Lord God of hosts, who first has suffered for us, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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