The fourth of this month marks the feast of that great medieval saint, St. Francis of Assisi.

Before his conversion, St. Francis, who was the son of a rich and prosperous merchant, was deeply repulsed by lepers. As the first stirrings of the Holy Spirit awakened in his heart one day, he was determined to conquer his fear since he knew that, leper or no leper, every human being was first and foremost a child of God. He was riding his horse outside the city walls when he encountered a leper on the road. He immediately dismounted, approached the leper, and kissed him. This act of compassion became the emblem of his radical call to love the outcast, the poor, and the disenfranchised.

There is something convicting about this story, and it prompts us to ask the question of ourselves: Are we so welcoming and loving to people who are to us lepers — those who hold a different political stance, those who are “odd” or not in the in-crowd, the men and women who importune us in the supermarket parking lots with some outlandish story about running out of gas money?

It would, of course, be a little awkward if we rushed upon them with puckered lips and pursued them through the lines of parked cars, shouting, “Come back here for your kiss!” That would be one sure way of making yourself a social leper.

But beyond unsociable and insanitary behavior, what can we do to make sure that we are loving to those in our lives who are outcasts of one sort or another? It’s sobering to think that this very question is one that we will have to tackle when we die and face our particular judgment. Sobering, yes. Just as sobering as the fact that we will have to answer for our other sins of omission and commission. Nevertheless, God’s mercy is boundless. As we read in Lamentations 3:22-23, “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.”

We also have the words of St. Peter to comfort us: “Above all, maintain constant love for one another, for love covers a multitude of sins.” (1 Pt 4:8) Comforting? Only if we actually shoulder the task of loving those whom the Lord puts in our path.

But you might protest, “I’m an introvert. I’d find it too difficult to strike up conversations with lepers ¸— eh, I mean strangers.”

Who knows? With your salvation in the balance, perhaps missing these small acts of kindness will be the very thing we regret when we come to review our lives at the end of our sojourn on this earth.

Another anecdote about the celebrated saint is also instructive. When St. Francis cast off his riches and began begging in the streets, one evening he happened to pass a tavern in which a group of his former drinking buddies were whooping it up. He quickened his pace as he passed the window. But then he was suddenly cut to the heart by his own cowardice. He turned back and entered the hostelry to face the shame of begging alms from the very ones he had caroused with through so many wild nights of revelry.

Sometimes, doing the hard thing is what the Holy Spirit is asking of us. It takes courage to love the unlovable, the unpopular, the outcast. It takes even more to love our enemies. But that is exactly what we are commanded to do. Of course, loving with our own weak, damaged and imperfect human love is usually not very effective, not to mention excruciatingly difficult.

However, if you are a baptized Christian you don’t need to lean on your own feeble efforts. You have the Holy Spirit inside you. That’s where the strength comes from. St. Francis knew this very well, which is why, through the example of his life, he became arguably the most influential figure in the whole of the Middle Ages.

Though we may begin loving others out of fear of punishment, ultimately God wants us to love them for his sake, because he loves them, sees their beauty and their true worth, and longs to save them. That’s the true goal. “You, therefore, must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” (Mt 5:48) Perfect in love, perfect in compassion, perfect in listening to the woes of the outcast.

Let’s take a leaf out of St. Francis’ book, step out of our comfort zone, and dare to love a leper.