Alessandro Barbero, a historian who has also become a media star (a unique case, it seems), recently gave an interesting lecture on Saint Francis in a theater packed with young people, which was also broadcast on television. He described Saint Francis as an "uncomfortable saint" and masterfully illustrated the history of his Legenda—a term originally meaning "a work to be read," that is, an official and therefore truthful version of events. Over time, however, the meaning of Legenda has been reversed to signify a "fantastical tale," as in the Legend of King Arthur, for example.

Barbero’s lecture was not merely a reconstruction of historical sources—though essential in any historical account—but also a profound and nuanced exploration of the complex religious issues raised by Saint Francis’s life.

The success of Saint Francis was immense and immediate, attracting crowds of passionate young people eager to imitate his way of life. To this day, Franciscan convents are found everywhere, and the various branches of the order collectively number around 45,000 members, followed at a distance by the Jesuits with 28,000. The current pope, himself a Jesuit, chose to take Francis’s name—something none of his predecessors had ever done, and not by coincidence, as we shall see.

The first biography of Saint Francis was written by Thomas of Celano, who had personally known him. This biography was produced in several versions, incorporating the testimonies of those who had directly followed Saint Francis and were therefore eyewitnesses. Their accounts were diligently collected and critically examined.

Later, about a generation after Francis’s death, when Saint Bonaventure of Bagnoregio became the leader of the Franciscan Order, he compiled the Legenda Maior—the official version of Francis’s life. All previous works were destroyed. It was only in the 19th century that these earlier writings and firsthand recollections were rediscovered.

The Legenda Maior presents Saint Francis as a benevolent figure, bringing happiness to all, always joyful, and never in conflict with anyone. In reality, however, he was an "uncomfortable" saint in the sense that he was extremely strict with his followers. Over time, the Franciscan Order he founded became deeply divided, leading to intense and bitter conflicts. The most significant and well-known dispute was between the Conventuals and the Observants (though other terms are also used). The Observants wanted to return to the original way of life practiced by Francis, while the Conventuals, though still inspired by him, introduced profound reforms to the order.

Saint Bonaventure of Bagnoregio was undoubtedly a significant reformer and is often rightly regarded as the order’s second founder.

In Barbero’s view, Saint Francis presents two major "uncomfortable" issues.

First and foremost is his extreme and uncompromising commitment to poverty. According to Francis, a true Christian should own absolutely nothing—not even touch money—and live in huts, relying on the alms of others. Even church buildings, he believed, should be simple and essential, like the small chapel of Porziuncola. However, in later years, magnificent Franciscan convents and churches were built, starting with the grand basilica in Assisi that houses his tomb. It seems paradoxical that someone who wanted to pray within the rough walls of Porziuncola is now honored by the immense and splendid Basilica of Santa Maria degli Angeli, which was built over it.

In reality, absolute poverty and disdain for material possessions reflect the idea that one should desire only the spiritual and not the material. However, in the Middle Ages, the Church and monasteries also served an important social function, similar to what we now call welfare: providing aid to the poor, the sick, pilgrims, and prisoners. This principle is deeply rooted in the Gospel, where those who care for the needy are blessed by the Lord—charity being the fundamental duty of a Christian. Yet, one cannot help the poor without resources. Monasteries could fulfill their role only because they had financial means, receiving donations from the faithful. Of course, these resources were meant to be used for aiding the needy, not for the clergy’s personal comfort—though, unfortunately, this was not always the case. A compromise was thus reached: while individual friars remained personally impoverished, the monastic communities could accumulate wealth.

The second critical issue is Francis’s strong aversion to intellectual pursuits. He believed that reading books was a privilege of the rich (as books were enormously expensive at the time) and, more importantly, that they bred pride. According to him, one should simply do God’s will with absolute humility, without seeking to understand everything or elevate oneself above common people.

This stance, however, was difficult to accept. Understanding the Gospel message, defending it against skeptics, heretics, and misinterpretations, required study and learning. This is why Scholastic philosophy emerged, with Saint Bonaventure himself being one of its leading figures. The movement reached its peak with Thomas Aquinas, who remains the most important theologian in Catholicism. Ironically, many Franciscan friars later became some of the greatest scholars and university professors of the Middle Ages.

Looking at it realistically, the form of Christianity practiced by Saint Francis could only ever be an exception. If the Church had insisted on the kind of radical poverty and humility that Francis advocated, it would have become a small sect of hermits, rather than a religion that embraced entire peoples and civilizations.

If the Church had not engaged in acts of material and spiritual mercy—if it had not ensured that everyone in need at least received a bowl of soup—it would never have attained the central role it has played in history.

The Conventuals, while still honoring Saint Francis, ultimately rejected his extreme approach. Their reasoning was that Francis was a great saint and could do extraordinary things that ordinary people, who were not saints, could not. And in truth, they were probably right.

At its core, the debate mirrors the controversy between the Jansenists and the Jesuits: Is a generally honest and virtuous life enough for salvation, or is sanctity required? Must one embrace martyrdom, live in seclusion, renounce all earthly possessions, and even abandon family ties?

Perhaps the answer is that not everyone can be a Saint Francis. Only a few are called to such spiritual heights. For the rest, fulfilling our daily duties with love and dedication may be enough.