What would Francis of Assisi make of his fame today?

One could safely say that Francis of Assisi's life — and afterlife — is defined by paradox.

He embraced poverty, yet lies entombed today in a grand basilica with frescoes by renowned medieval artists in his native Assisi in central Italy.

He advocated meekness, yet hundreds of thousands venerated his remains when they went on public display earlier this year to commemorate 800 years since his death on October 3, 1226.

So, why has this Catholic saint inspired papal encyclicals, ecological activism, global pet‑blessing rituals — and even the propaganda of former Italian fascist leader Benito Mussolini?

And what might Francis make of this fame that he'd shunned while alive?

From riches to rags

Born in Assisi — a hill town in central Italy — in 1181 or 1182, he was first named Giovanni di Pietro di Bernardone. But his father, a cloth merchant with trade links to France, renamed him Francesco.

Early Franciscan hagiographers — medieval writers who recorded his life and shaped how later generations understood him — describe him as a lively, sociable young man who enjoyed singing, parties and the privileges of wealth.

However, he didn't want to join his father's trade; he dreamed of becoming a knight.

In 1202, Francis joined Assisi's forces in a battle against neighboring Perugia. He was captured, spent a year in prison, and returned home shaken and ill. This, and a series of subsequent events, precipitated a slow shift in his outlook.

One took place at the small, ruined Church of San Damiano outside Assisi, where Francis believed he heard Jesus Christ calling on him to "rebuild my church." Taking it literally, he began repairing local chapels. And when he ran out of money, he sold cloth from his father's shop, which enraged the latter and led to a dramatic episode in Assisi's town square.

Before the bishop and gathered townspeople, Francis stripped off his fine clothes, renouncing his father, his inheritance and all material comforts. He committed himself to a life of poverty, humility, care for the poor and sick, and a deep kinship with nature. 

A relatable saint

As a wandering preacher, he drew followers and eventually founded the Order of Friars Minor, known today as the Franciscans.

Widely considered the first saint to have miraculously received the stigmata — physical wounds resembling those on the crucified body of Jesus Christ — Francis was canonized by Pope Gregory IX on July 16, 1228. This unusually swift recognition amplified his fame beyond Assisi.

In the following centuries, Francis became one of the most frequently depicted saints in Western art, inspiring works from Dante's "Divine Comedy" to films, children's books, and even a 1980 Marvel comic.

"Most saints are seen as unapproachable or unrelatable, but Francis' story of lifelong conversion and the desire to be in a positive relationship with others, God and the rest of creation speaks to people across time and cultures," theologian and former Franciscan friar Daniel P. Horan tells DW.

According to cultural historian Amanda Minervini, this broad appeal is also what made Francis so adaptable across eras: "In Francis, there seems to be something for everyone: the pacifist, the ascetic, the mason, the environmentalist, the minimalist, the lover of animals also loved by animals, the diplomat, the mystic, the radical, the performer, and even the model of a different kind of masculinity," they tell DW.

Pacifist mascot of a fascist regime

His image has been reconstructed throughout history, points out Minervini, who has explored in their research one particularly jarring example: Francis' political appropriation by Benito Mussolini's fascist regime.

In their recent book, "St. Francis and Mussolini: Fascist Appropriations of a Beloved Italian Saint" (2026), they explain how fascist rhetoric manipulated Francis' stigmata, reframing them as symbols of heroic suffering and sacrifice. "The wounds of the saint were thus invoked to glorify sacrifice and inspire Italian youth to go to war."

Noting how Mussolini chose to be rebaptized in 1927 to strengthen his alliance with the Vatican, they add, "St. Francis offered a particularly useful means of conferring religious legitimacy upon political power."  

Minervini's research shows that Francis' pacifism — "likely because he had known what war meant" — was deliberately played down. Their book reproduces a confidential note addressed to military chaplains in 1929, which expressed concern that they might preach ideals of peace to the troops. 

"This document provides clear evidence that peace was an aspect of Francesco's legacy that fascist groups sought to suppress rather than promote."

Furthermore, after Italy — a former Axis power along with Nazi Germany — switched sides and joined the Allies during World War II, the latter were often willing to condone or overlook Italy's crimes rather than investigate its fascist past.

"In this climate, many fascists remained in place, and the politically compromised image of Francis was quietly set aside," explains Minervini. 

Medieval peace envoy

Francis has however remained associated with peace-making.

In 1219, during the Fifth Crusade, he traveled with the crusading army to Damietta, a port city in northern Egypt, and obtained permission to cross into the Muslim camp and meet personally with the sultan, Malik al-Kamil. His aim was to convert the sultan and bring an end to the bloody conflict.

Describing his action as "an extraordinarily audacious thing to do," Minervini says the encounter did not produce the conversion or political breakthrough Francis may have hoped for, but his return unscathed ensured that early sources took notice of him.

Daniel Horan adds that despite Christians viewing Muslims as the enemy back then, St Francis "would not go along with that dehumanizing perspective" and instead celebrated "the shared humanity and brotherhood he recognized in the Sultan."

From mendicant friar to climate icon

But he is most widely known as an animal lover and an early figure of environmental consciousness. 

"He was ahead of his time both theologically and in terms of modern natural sciences, recognizing the complexity of the cosmos and the fact that human beings are also creatures in relationship with the world around us," says Daniel Horan, author of "Francis of Assisi and the Future of Faith" (2012).

In 1979, Pope John Paul II declared Francis the patron saint of ecology, while the Argentinian Jorge Mario Bergoglio chose the saint as his papal namesake when he became Pope Francis in 2013. 

This pope would later publish "Laudato Si'" in 2015 — based on the saint's 1225 hymn "Canticle of the Creatures," in which he addresses natural elements as "Brother Sun," "Sister Moon" and "Sister Mother Earth."

The pope's encyclical connected environmental destruction directly to human suffering, besides critiquing consumerism and the "throwaway culture," and urging humanity to undergo an "ecological conversion." 

"I also believe that in a time of deep polarization and economic inequality that St Francis models another way of being in the world, one that prioritizes relationship and community over individual gain and power," says Horan.

But what might Francis make of his fame today?

"It's always tricky to try and guess what St. Francis, who died 800 years ago this October, would think about anything today. Our world is so unlike his own. But we do know that in his own time he was very uncomfortable with the positive reception he and his brother friars were receiving across Europe," says Horan.

Minervini suggests that he might have been more comfortable with representations of himself as a pacifist saint. 

"I suspect he would be profoundly troubled, perhaps even furious, as it is known he could get upset, by the condition of our late-capitalist, technocratic world and by the ways in which we continue to understand ourselves as separate from, and superior to, the other creatures."