
By Sister Abigail Hester, OFC
“Go forth in peace, for you have followed the good road. Go forth without fear, for He who created you has made you holy, has always protected you, and loves you as a mother.” — Saint Clare of Assisi
A Scandalous Simplicity
Clare of Assisi didn’t just embrace poverty—she dared to love it. Not out of ascetic thrill-seeking, but because she saw in it a deeper truth: we were never meant to survive on our own. In a world addicted to autonomy, she chose holy dependence. And that is scandalous.
She defied not just her wealthy family, but the entire ecclesial structure that wanted her to “tone it down.” Bishops begged her to accept endowments. Popes tried to gently nudge her into more “reasonable” poverty. Clare? She dug in her heels. She insisted that her community have no possessions whatsoever—not even collectively. For Clare, poverty wasn’t a punishment. It was a path to freedom. A radical freedom that refused to be owned, owed, or beholden to anyone but Christ.
Dependence as Resistance
In our modern world, “dependence” is a dirty word. We’re taught to be self-sufficient, self-made, and preferably stylish while doing it. Neediness is weakness. But Clare flips the script: dependence isn’t disgraceful—it’s divine.
To live in holy dependence is to confess:
I don’t have all the answers.
I can’t save myself.
I need others, and I need God.
Clare’s vision rips the mask off toxic individualism. She shows us that community—real, messy, interdependent community—isn’t a backup plan. It’s the Gospel lived out. Her sisters didn’t just pray together. They begged together, fasted together, wept together. They trusted that God would provide through the hands of the poor and the generosity of others. And often, He did.
The Poor Christ
What made Clare’s poverty radical wasn’t the lack of stuff. It was her refusal to turn away from the Crucified Christ. She saw in Him—naked, abandoned, pierced—her Beloved. She wanted to mirror Him in everything. His poverty, His vulnerability, His absolute surrender to the Father’s will.
To be poor like Clare is to stare into the wound of the world and not flinch. It is to say, I will not climb the ladder. I will descend into the dust, where Christ dwells among the broken. This is not performative poverty. This is mystical union.
A Word to the Church
Let’s be honest: much of the Church today has made peace with wealth. We’ve baptized greed, canonized comfort, and turned boardrooms into upper rooms. Clare’s life asks us: Who do we actually trust? Mammon or Mercy?
If our ministries, communities, and spiritual lives can’t survive without financial insulation or institutional power, then we are not poor enough to know Clare. Or Christ.
Reclaiming Holy Dependence
For the Order of Franciscan Clareans—and for all who dare to follow the poor, queer, and crucified Christ—this is our inheritance. Holy dependence isn’t about helplessness. It’s about wholeness. It’s about reclaiming the sacred gift of needing one another.
What might it look like to:
Share your income with your neighbor without tracking the “ROI”?
Let go of owning more and opt into mutual care?
Refuse the illusion of control and embrace the vulnerability of trust?
Clare doesn’t give us a blueprint. She gives us a burning love—a love that says: Let go. Fall into God. And if you’re lucky, into the arms of the poor.
Benediction
May we be ruined for comfort.
May we be allergic to power.
May we live unclenched, unarmed, and unashamed to need.
Like Clare. Like Christ.
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