Assisi Three
Today has been huge in so many ways.
We three set off down the hill after morning prayers to find San Damiano. It is about 1.5 km out of town down a steep hill, though olive groves. This wee church was where Francis heard the crucified Christ ask him “to rebuild my church” He took this literally, and rebuilt not only the run down San Damiano, but also several other churches in the Assisi region.
San Damiano became the place of residence for Clare and her followers, and so is significant for the second order as well. The Poor Clares as they are called moved to the new basilica when Clare died, and the OFM friars now fun the site. Unlike the basilicas up in the town proper, tourists don’t tend to go here. It is a simple little church, which a replica of the crucifix that hung there in Francis and Clare’s time. (The real one hangs in The Basilica of St. Clare) It was deeply moving to pray there, and in the various other rooms and chapels from Clare’s time. To be in the place where these astounding people of God lived and prayed, and in Clare’s case, died. We also saw where Francis wrote most of his Canticle to the Creatures.
As I sat in the small church before the crucifix, I became aware that my own calling is to rebuild Christ’s church. Certainly I do not claim any grand status like Francis, but by working among young people, I and others like me are called to rebuild the church with these young people. I had never quite considered my ministry like that before, and it was very humbling and weighty.
We then walked on down the hill and on for another 3 or so km, may be longer, to the Rivo Torto. Here a church has been built over the hut that Francis and his first followers tried to live in before being driven out by an angry farmer. As I sat out side this small hut I could imagine Francis and his brothers saying the office, reading scripture together, and singing praises to God, filled with the joy of the strange life they were embarking on together.
After a bite, we set out for another 5-6 km walk to St. Mary and all Angels, where the Portiuncula, or Little Portion is housed. This is the wee small church given to St, Francis by the Benedictines to live near and to pray in. Some traditions say this is the pace he heard the gospel on 24 Feb (my birthday), the feast of St. Matthias, which inspired him to follow lady poverty. If this is true it is the birth pace of the Order of Friars Minor and the Franciscan Family. It became his home. It became the place the General Chapters met. And it was the place Francis came back to to die.
The last time I was here 13 years ago, I hated both the church it is housed in (a very ugly Italian Basilica) and the frescoes painted all over it. It seemed to be counter the very simplicity that Francis lived for. This time I ignored the basilica. The frescoes I noted are not so ornate, and speak of Francis’ life. I was deeply moved to be able to go in and pray in this very holy site. To touch the walls that Francis rebuilt. To pray where he and his early brothers prayed. I was with my family as I knelt there. I then walked around, finding the place he died, the place of his cell where he lived and prayed when in Assisi, and other sites. It was a profoundly anchoring experience.
The other two bused back, and I then walked the road back to Assisi, looking for Via Francesco. This is not about Francis, but is about his nick name. It was the main road between Rome and France. It was here that Francis met the leper early on in his conversion. Up to this point he had turned his face away, usually riding on (as he would as the son of a wealthy merchant) although occasionally giving them alms. But on one occasion he got down from his horse, and not only gave money, but kissed the leper, embracing him and all his foulness, and all his own fear and loathing. At that moment it is said he saw the face of Christ in the leper’s face. This moment changed him completely, and is almost more important than the crucifix speaking to him, or hearing the gospel in Luke on St. Matthias day. He returned to the leper hospital regularly after that, loving those people as if they were Christ. He made all his early brothers under holy obedience do likewise, that they could learn to see Christ in the most despised and hosted in his society. As I walked down this road, I was very aware of how much I do not see the face of Christ in others, especially those I struggle with, and how much I have to learn. I had ignored the beggars at St. Mary’s, I had grumbled at the noisy tourist parties. I had not loved!
I continued up the steep hill back to Assisi, stopping at two other churches on the way that I had not visited before. I think I walked almost 20km all up today. I am very tired!!!
Tonight on the way to dinner I found a statue to Francis’s parents. His father who he so publicly broke with, even though he was lonely trying to look after his “mad” son. And his mother who broke her own heart and the heart of her husband freeing Francis from the cell in their home, releasing him to his outrageous calling. She knew they could not save him, and had to let him go be who God called him to be. As I stood before that statue I was very aware of their pain and sense of failure, and their love. As a parent I stood with them and wondered what I would do.
It has been a very heavy day. It has been wonderful. It has rained gently most of the afternoon. God has been with us every wet step. I am profoundly grateful to have had the chance to return here.
I will attempt to load some photos, but they wouldn’t go up this morning. We shall see.
This could be my last pasting for over a week. We have one day left in Assisi. I hope to go to the Hermitage which is about 5 km up Mount Subasio. It is where Francis and his early brothers would go to pray. A very special place. Then Saturday we are off to Rome early in the morning. I have been going to the internet café early in the morning to do my email and blog posting, so will not get a chance then. (I have been typing this up in the evening, saving it my little key, and then taking it down first thing in the morning to send or upload) And then on Sunday I fly early in the morning to Geneva, and then train to Taize. So it may be the 19th, when I return to Geneva for 3 days before I get a chance to email again
I leave you with the prayer I have prayed in every church and holy site.
May all those who enter be filled with the peace of God, and that they will work for that peace to be established throughout the world
We three set off down the hill after morning prayers to find San Damiano. It is about 1.5 km out of town down a steep hill, though olive groves. This wee church was where Francis heard the crucified Christ ask him “to rebuild my church” He took this literally, and rebuilt not only the run down San Damiano, but also several other churches in the Assisi region.
San Damiano became the place of residence for Clare and her followers, and so is significant for the second order as well. The Poor Clares as they are called moved to the new basilica when Clare died, and the OFM friars now fun the site. Unlike the basilicas up in the town proper, tourists don’t tend to go here. It is a simple little church, which a replica of the crucifix that hung there in Francis and Clare’s time. (The real one hangs in The Basilica of St. Clare) It was deeply moving to pray there, and in the various other rooms and chapels from Clare’s time. To be in the place where these astounding people of God lived and prayed, and in Clare’s case, died. We also saw where Francis wrote most of his Canticle to the Creatures.
As I sat in the small church before the crucifix, I became aware that my own calling is to rebuild Christ’s church. Certainly I do not claim any grand status like Francis, but by working among young people, I and others like me are called to rebuild the church with these young people. I had never quite considered my ministry like that before, and it was very humbling and weighty.
We then walked on down the hill and on for another 3 or so km, may be longer, to the Rivo Torto. Here a church has been built over the hut that Francis and his first followers tried to live in before being driven out by an angry farmer. As I sat out side this small hut I could imagine Francis and his brothers saying the office, reading scripture together, and singing praises to God, filled with the joy of the strange life they were embarking on together.
After a bite, we set out for another 5-6 km walk to St. Mary and all Angels, where the Portiuncula, or Little Portion is housed. This is the wee small church given to St, Francis by the Benedictines to live near and to pray in. Some traditions say this is the pace he heard the gospel on 24 Feb (my birthday), the feast of St. Matthias, which inspired him to follow lady poverty. If this is true it is the birth pace of the Order of Friars Minor and the Franciscan Family. It became his home. It became the place the General Chapters met. And it was the place Francis came back to to die.
The last time I was here 13 years ago, I hated both the church it is housed in (a very ugly Italian Basilica) and the frescoes painted all over it. It seemed to be counter the very simplicity that Francis lived for. This time I ignored the basilica. The frescoes I noted are not so ornate, and speak of Francis’ life. I was deeply moved to be able to go in and pray in this very holy site. To touch the walls that Francis rebuilt. To pray where he and his early brothers prayed. I was with my family as I knelt there. I then walked around, finding the place he died, the place of his cell where he lived and prayed when in Assisi, and other sites. It was a profoundly anchoring experience.
The other two bused back, and I then walked the road back to Assisi, looking for Via Francesco. This is not about Francis, but is about his nick name. It was the main road between Rome and France. It was here that Francis met the leper early on in his conversion. Up to this point he had turned his face away, usually riding on (as he would as the son of a wealthy merchant) although occasionally giving them alms. But on one occasion he got down from his horse, and not only gave money, but kissed the leper, embracing him and all his foulness, and all his own fear and loathing. At that moment it is said he saw the face of Christ in the leper’s face. This moment changed him completely, and is almost more important than the crucifix speaking to him, or hearing the gospel in Luke on St. Matthias day. He returned to the leper hospital regularly after that, loving those people as if they were Christ. He made all his early brothers under holy obedience do likewise, that they could learn to see Christ in the most despised and hosted in his society. As I walked down this road, I was very aware of how much I do not see the face of Christ in others, especially those I struggle with, and how much I have to learn. I had ignored the beggars at St. Mary’s, I had grumbled at the noisy tourist parties. I had not loved!
I continued up the steep hill back to Assisi, stopping at two other churches on the way that I had not visited before. I think I walked almost 20km all up today. I am very tired!!!
Tonight on the way to dinner I found a statue to Francis’s parents. His father who he so publicly broke with, even though he was lonely trying to look after his “mad” son. And his mother who broke her own heart and the heart of her husband freeing Francis from the cell in their home, releasing him to his outrageous calling. She knew they could not save him, and had to let him go be who God called him to be. As I stood before that statue I was very aware of their pain and sense of failure, and their love. As a parent I stood with them and wondered what I would do.
It has been a very heavy day. It has been wonderful. It has rained gently most of the afternoon. God has been with us every wet step. I am profoundly grateful to have had the chance to return here.
I will attempt to load some photos, but they wouldn’t go up this morning. We shall see.
This could be my last pasting for over a week. We have one day left in Assisi. I hope to go to the Hermitage which is about 5 km up Mount Subasio. It is where Francis and his early brothers would go to pray. A very special place. Then Saturday we are off to Rome early in the morning. I have been going to the internet café early in the morning to do my email and blog posting, so will not get a chance then. (I have been typing this up in the evening, saving it my little key, and then taking it down first thing in the morning to send or upload) And then on Sunday I fly early in the morning to Geneva, and then train to Taize. So it may be the 19th, when I return to Geneva for 3 days before I get a chance to email again
I leave you with the prayer I have prayed in every church and holy site.
May all those who enter be filled with the peace of God, and that they will work for that peace to be established throughout the world
Comments