Brother Yasser Zamora, SA is a Franciscan Friar of the Atonement who made his Perpetual Religious Confession on September 5th, 2026. A native of Nicaragua who also holds Peruvian nationality, Brother Yasser earned his bachelor’s degree in philosophy from the Catholic University of Nicaragua. His theological studies were completed in Perú at the ISET Juan XXIII Institute, which operates in convention with the Pontificia Università Urbaniana of Rome. He earned his master’s degree in Psychopedagogy from the Latina University of Costa Rica. He is currently based with the Franciscan Friars of the Atonement community in Assisi, Italy, where he is pursuing his Licentiate in Franciscan Theology at the Theological Institute of Assisi.
To walk the stone-paved streets of Assisi during this Jubilee year, marking the 800th anniversary of the Transitus of Saint Francis (his crossing from earthly life into eternal life), is to walk within a living sanctuary of memory and hope. Eight hundred years ago, no one could have imagined that today, the bells echoing from the Basilica of San Francesco to the Cathedral of San Rufino, from the Basilica of Santa Chiara down to the quiet humility of the Chiesa di Santo Stefano, would not merely toll for a man who died eight centuries ago but ring as a persistent, urgent summons to the present. We are being called to remember that the legacy of the Poverello of Assisi1 is not a relic to be venerated behind glass but a dynamic, breathing opportunity for all of us today.
As a Franciscan Friar of the Atonement living for the past year in Assisi, I have felt this centenary profoundly shape my understanding of our specific vocational calling, where Father Paul Wattson and Mother Lurana White, our founders, were captivated by this same Franciscan spirit, recognizing in it the perfect vessel for their ultimate vision “that they all may be one” (John 17:21). Watching curious visitors mingle with true pilgrims arriving from every corner of the world, with heartfelt prayers for the intercession of the Poverello as they walk toward Saint Francis’s holy crypt, I witness the living impact of the saint, which is deeply animated during this Jubilee year by the Franciscan family in Assisi through a multitude of activities, liturgies, and initiatives centered on Francis. These gatherings have summoned thousands globally, offering space to continue the work of reconciling ourselves with God and our neighbors, while simultaneously reigniting a collective renewal of our care for Creation. Friars, Sisters, and Tertiaries from many different branches of the Franciscan family continue to update and share his profound thought, searching together for ways to renew our absolute love for God, attempting with humility to live, think, and act as Francis did.
In the midst of these celebrations, the spiritual echo of the centenary calls for an intimate, personal reassessment of our religious life, a reality beautifully captured by Brother Paolo Nicosia, SA:
For me, celebrating the 800-year jubilee of Saint Francis of Assisi means commemorating the life and spiritual legacy of Francis in terms of conversion, renewal of vocation, and a return to the spirit of the charism. This jubilee, from my point of view, is not only ‘celebrating Francis,’ but living his intuition that shaped him to a renewed life, for himself, the Franciscans, and the Church: what remains alive from Francis? What has become institutionalized? What do minority, poverty, fraternity, and peace mean now?
This interior questioning opens a wider path, echoed by Brother Fabrizio Szymanski, SA, who intimately notes:
For me, this 800-year jubilee is a living sanctuary where Saint Francis’s universal fraternity repairs Christ’s broken house, challenging each one of us to transform theological divisions and everyday relationships alike, turning the patient art of reconciliation into a shared, visible walk toward ecumenical At-One-Ment.
Today, as we commemorate Francis’s passage from this life to the eternal, we recognize that this rich history stands as our collective challenge and inheritance, calling all of us who participate in this beautiful spirituality to continue responding to God in a concrete manner, just as the Poverello did . . .
Through these combined perspectives, we recognize that the dawn of a remarkable Franciscan theology has transformed the way of being Church throughout history, shaping monumental works of art – including the rapid, providential construction of the Basilica of Saint Francis itself – but also music, poetry, and writings. Together, these have allowed lay people, priests, brothers and sisters from other denominations, and even members of the same Franciscan family (including myself) to study a distinct way of discovering and loving God through Creation, allowing ourselves to be fashioned as instruments of peace while pioneering dialogue across ecumenical and interreligious boundaries. Today, as we commemorate Francis’s passage from this life to the eternal, we recognize that this rich history stands as our collective challenge and inheritance, calling all of us who participate in this beautiful spirituality to continue responding to God in a concrete manner, just as the Poverello did alongside so many others through the centuries, and just as the founders of our Society of the Atonement did in their own way and their own time. We reflect on what his Transitus and his entire life of radical Gospel encounter mean for our ecumenical and interfaith mission in a deeply fragmented world, an authentic journey which must begin where Francis began, at the Spogliazione in the square of the Bishopric – there, before his earthly father and the Bishop of Assisi, Francis stripped himself of his garments, wealth, and privilege, handing back his clothes and declaring, “From now on I will say freely: Our Father who art in heaven, and not ‘father Pietro di Bernardone . . .’”
In the context of ecumenism, the Spogliazione represents the prerequisite for dialogue: for centuries, the divided Body of Christ has clothed itself in heavy garments of theological pride, and as Friars of the Atonement, we testify to and attempt to embody this exact kenōsis (self-emptying), refusing to approach other confessions clad in the armor of institutional superiority. Dialogue requires vulnerability, standing in a poverty of spirit which acknowledges we do not possess all the answers but are all seekers of the one Truth. So, when we gather for ecumenical Vespers at the ancient church of Santo Stefano (where, according to pious tradition, the bells rang spontaneously at the exact moment Saint Francis passed away), praying alongside various traditions, it is this shared poverty that binds us, allowing us to approach the altar not as owners of the sacred mystery, but as beggars sharing the bread of the Word. This is the very heart of At-One-Ment: to empty ourselves completely so that the healing grace of the Holy Spirit might fill the void, making us truly one.
The Franciscan centenaries we have been celebrating step by step – from the Rule to Greccio, and on to the Stigmata of La Verna – culminate beautifully in the mystery of the Transitus, but we cannot fully grasp the depth of this moment without remembering the saint’s historic encounter with the Sultan al-Malik al-Kāmil in Damietta in 1219. In an era defined by a violent clash of civilizations, when the Crusades had institutionalized the concept of “holy war,” Francis crossed the enemy lines without a sword, carrying only the unarmed Gospel of peace, choosing not to conquer territory, but simply to meet a brother, completely subverting the paradigm of enmity and offering a prophetic model of interreligious encounter that our contemporary world desperately needs today. Our world is severely wounded by deep polarization, religious extremism, and sectarian violence, so the delicate art of mediation and conflict resolution, which I have sought to integrate deeply into my theological studies, finds its highest expression in this encounter, where Francis and the Sultan truly listened to one another, recognizing the mutual thirst for the divine in each other’s eyes.
As Atonement Franciscans, we inherit this daring legacy: our calling is to stand firmly in the metaphorical “no man’s land” between warring factions, divided communities, and different faiths, seeing the face of Christ in the marginalized, the migrant, and the person of a different creed.
As Atonement Franciscans, we inherit this daring legacy: our calling is to stand firmly in the metaphorical “no man’s land” between warring factions, divided communities, and different faiths, seeing the face of Christ in the marginalized, the migrant, and the person of a different creed. The interfaith energy emerging from our Italian ministries, we attest, reveals itself as a direct continuation of Francis’s journey to Damietta, reminding us that we engage in dialogue not merely to be polite but because our Franciscan charism demands that we recognize the universal kinship of all creation. If God is truly the Father of all, then the Muslim, the Jew, the Hindu, and the secular seeker are undeniably our brothers and sisters, and to deny them dialogue is to deny our own identity as Franciscan Friars of the Atonement.
Today, our collective challenge as a Franciscan family, as associates and admirers of this great saint, is to heed that same urgent call, discovering fresh, creative pathways to heal and repair not only the Church but the whole household of life in our modern world.
As we approach the solemn commemoration of the Transitus, we must also remember the sacred wounds of La Verna, where Francis received the Stigmata and became a living crucifix, embodying the very icon that had once spoken to him in the quiet church of San Damiano, whispering the mandate to “repair my house.” Today, our collective challenge as a Franciscan family, as associates and admirers of this great saint, is to heed that same urgent call, discovering fresh, creative pathways to heal and repair not only the Church but the whole household of life in our modern world.
For the Atonement Friars, the Stigmata hold a profound ecumenical symbolism, because the wounds of Christ are mirror images of the wounds of His Church, and the divisions among Christians – the schisms, mutual condemnations, failures to share the same Eucharistic table, and contemptuous dismissals of one another’s witness – are the bleeding wounds in the Body of Christ today, meaning that to pray and work for Christian unity is to stand courageously at the foot of the Cross, refusing to turn away from the pain. Father Paul Wattson instituted the Church Unity Octave precisely from this place of spiritual compassion, understanding that unity would never be achieved solely through theological agreements or institutional diplomacy, but through deep prayer, penance, and the grace of God. Our vocation of At-One-Ment is a call to be authentic healers, but to heal a wound, one must first be willing to touch it, validating the historical pain of our separated brethren and asking for forgiveness for the times we have failed to love them, because acknowledging the wounds of the Church is the indispensable first step toward the joy of resurrection and full unity.
As Francis lay dying at the Portiuncula in the autumn of 1226, blind and physically broken, he composed the final verses of his Canticle of the Creatures. A year earlier, while staying at the Bishop’s palace, he had already added a stanza to mediate a conflict between the Bishop and the Mayor of Assisi, singing: “Praised be You, my Lord, through those who give pardon for Your love, and bear infirmity and tribulation . . . .” Through this poetic plea, peace had been beautifully restored to the city. Now, at the Portiuncula, he was ready to seal his masterpiece by embracing Sister Death. Even on his deathbed, Francis acted as a true minister of At-One-Ment, welcoming “Sister Death” not as a terrifying enemy, but as the final threshold to total union with the Beloved. This is the ultimate horizon of our ecumenical and interfaith mission, showing us that the Transitus was Francis’s final act of At-One-Ment, a complete integration of life and death, joy and suffering, humanity and divinity. As Friars of the Atonement, our daily lives are meant to be a continuous Transitus, a passing over from the isolation of selfishness to our conversion and the communion of fraternity, moving to embrace those who think and believe differently, passing from prejudice to dialogue, and from enmity to universal brotherhood, leading to restored peace and unity.
Christ continues to teach us what is ours to do; although the world we inhabit is vastly different from medieval Umbria, the human heart remains the same, and the thirst for peace, the ache for belonging, and the desperate need for reconciliation are as acute today as they were in 1226.
Before taking his final breath, Saint Francis said to his brothers, “I have done what was mine to do; may Christ teach you what you are to do” (Legenda Maior 14.3). Eight hundred years later, Christ continues to teach us what is ours to do; although the world we inhabit is vastly different from medieval Umbria, the human heart remains the same, and the thirst for peace, the ache for belonging, and the desperate need for reconciliation are as acute today as they were in 1226. Those of us in Assisi along with our visitors can attest to the immense multitudes flooding the streets, making their way to visit the remains of Saint Francis, coming with a shared thirst for peace, a joy radiating from their eyes, and the hope of offering their prayers to God through our elder brother and friend, Francis of Assisi; yet they also carry the sorrow of the division and war afflicting the world today, yearning deeply for the return of peace, and hoping that their words and deeds might become like that historic canticle, a strong bridge of unity and reconciliation.
The Society of the Atonement offers a fresh perspective to the Franciscan legacy by intentionally focusing the lens of minority and fraternity on the specific work of ecumenism and interreligious dialogue, doing so with the quiet resilience of those who trust completely in the slow, miraculous work of the Holy Spirit. Participating in the recent veneration of the relics here in Assisi, I was moved by the sheer number of pilgrims, believers and non-believers alike, who drew near to the Poverello – because Francis belongs to everyone, a universal brother who managed to tear down the walls of division through the simple power of love.
As we celebrate this centenary, may we as Atonement Franciscans renew our definitive “Yes” to the beautiful labor of unity, continuing to build bridges where others build walls, and approaching the ecumenical altar and the interfaith table with the absolute humility of the Spogliazione, the patient commitment of San Damiano, the loving courage of Damietta, and the reconciling peace of the Transitus, praying that Saint Francis of Assisi and our Founders intercede for us, so that our lives may be a living testament to the prayer of Christ: “That they all may be one.”
Notes
1. This title is rooted in the Latin word pauperculus, meaning “little poor man,” which was the very first definition Saint Francis used for himself in his Testament before he died. Tommaso da Celano later included it in his biography, before it was translated into the Italian Poverello that we know today.
This article originally appeared in Ecumenical Trends 55.5 (September/October 2026), a publication of Graymoor Ecumenical & Interreligious Institute. The journal offers distinctive perspectives where the church, the academy, and the interfaith field coincide, and combines reporting on current developments in ecumenical/interreligious affairs with accessible scholarship, interviews, and pastoral reflection on the dynamics of religious difference on common ground. Find out more, and subscribe to Ecumenical Trends (print and/or online), by clicking here.