Images of Saint Francis in Assisi

Walking in Assisi in 2013 and last October, I came across several incredible images of St. Francis. They continue to inspire me.

Near San Damiano, looking out on the valley:

Near the entrance to San Damiano

At the corner of the friary of San Damiano, walking from from the city:

Beside the Basilica of Santa Maria degli Angeli (the Porziuncula)

In front of the Basilica of Saint Francis: Francis returning from war

Near the Chiesa Nueva: Francis with his mother (near the site of the family home)

At the entrance to the Carceri:

In the Carceri, the caves above Assisi where Francis and his followers went for prayer:

And not to forget, an image of Saint Clare, in the friary of Santa Maria degli Angeli:

And this plaque near Clare's family house and the Cathedral of San Rufino:

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Sculptures of Saint Francis - Assisi

OCTOBER 2018 PILGRIMAGE: 2

Sculpture of Saint Francis in Assisi

Assisi is filled with images of St. Francis. There are the fantastic frescos of Giotto and Cimabue in the Basilica of St. Francis. There are images on the sides of houses. But there are also some extraordinary metal sculptures near Franciscan sites.

One I hadn’t seen when I was in Assisi in 2013 and may be new is Francis with a locust near the church of St. Mary of the Angels, in the exit from the cloisters and the store.

For me, this image presents Francis in communion with all of creation. He is standing there, with a leg up against the nearby pillar, holding a locust, barely touching it. The gentleness of his touch impressed me - as I also encountered such creatures of God around my house.

There are two sculptures near the church of San Damiano that present two other dimensions of St. Francis. In a clearing between trees, with a view of the valley, Francis is sitting in meditation, in communion with God.

Just by the entrance to the square in front of San Damiano is an image of a poor man, beleaguered by the wind and the rain. I think of how Francis sought to identify with the marginalized of his day, as Jesus became poor for our sake.

There is also a group of three images in the Eremo delle Carceri, the place where Francis and his early companions sought a refuge for prayer in the caves that dot the mountainside that I photographed in 2013. 

This time I happened onto the plaque, in Italian, that seems to say that there are images of Francis, Juniper, and another brother gazing at the stars in the sky. 

The wonder that Francis showed for all creation come through.

There are others, but these are for me the most evocative of Francis – in communion with creation, in communion with God, identifying with the marginalized, and in awe of all that God has made.

Last full day in Assisi

There is a story about St. Francis that a bird in one of his retreat settings woke him for Matins, except when Francis was ill or especially tired.

I had intended to get up and go to Lauds and Mass at Santa Chiara. But I woke with only enough time to get to Mass in the crypt of the St. Francis Basilica. I must have needed the extra sleep.

After Mass and breakfast, I went to leave some laundry to be washed. I thought of going to Rivo Torto, the Holy Hovel, but decide to wait until the afternoon.

Wanting through the crooked streets of Assisi, I ran across the tiny chapel of San Francesco Picollino. It's almost literally a hole in the wall.

One tradition is that Francis was born there in a stable - according to the early lives that tried to make Francis an other Chrixt, alter Christus. Another tradition is that this is where his father, Pietro Bernadone, had his fabric shop.

Neither tale may be true - or both may be. It doesn't matter because here is a holy place, simple and small, befitting the memory of Il Poverello, the little poor man.

I sat and prayed, reveling in the presence of God.

After lunch I decided to go to Rivo Torto, walking by way of San Damiano. God had other plans.

I started to go the way my guide sheet said, but decided it was too far and it was better to stop and pray at San Damiano. But I did have the blessing to encounter a beautiful sculpture of Francis praying, in a meditative stance. It touched me deeply.

And so I ended up sitting for a good time in San Damiano, praying quietly, with no one to disturb  me. The peace was palpable.

I returned to Assisi and walked, read, relaxed until I headed to Vespers (Evening Prayer) in the chapel of San Quirico which is a Poor Clare monastery.

What a center of peace. As Vespers began, one of the sisters brought a simple monstrance  with the Host and placed it on the altar, while the sisters sang an Italian version of Adoro Te, devote, accompanied by what was probably a psaltery. (It reminded me of a hammered dulcimer but was plucked, rather than struck.)

The prayer was heavenly.

I left, had dinner, finished Carlo Caretto's I, Francis, and went to sleep.

Friday Mass at the Basilica was followed by my departure for Rome.

I left grateful, finding here an oasis of peace, that nourished my spirit and challenged me to live out a Franciscan life of being with the little people of the world, trusting in a God who is our real security.

Ash Wednesday in Assisi

To celebrate the the beginning of Lent, I got up early and walked to San Damiano, the small church where Francis heard his call to repair the church.

Lauds and Mass were simple, sung by the friars and the congregation, mostly women religious. The priest was young and gave a short, to the point, homily. Then ashes were blessed and we came forward to be signed. I was surprised when the ashes were dropped on the top of the head, instead of being put on the forehead. But the symbol spoke clearly.

After Mass I walked back to the guesthouse for breakfast and spent th day visiting a few places.

But most of all it was a day, dry like a desert. Tuesday had been full of strong emotions, but the strongest I experienced Wednesday was homesickness for Honduras. I really missed home.

But I also became aware of the way I look for and want security and control. From my reading I am beginning to see that a central part of Francis' message of poverty is the need not merely to relinquish stuff, but more important to live in the precariousness of life with faith in the providence of God.

Francis was so intent on poverty because he feared that houses and books would lead people to seek their security there, rather then in God. The poor don't have that type of security and neither did Jesus.

So, to seek things is to look for other sources of security. And,  Francis once said, if we have possessions, we will need weapons to protect them!

So, I struggled Wednesday.

But the day ended well, with Evening Prayer at Santa Chiara.

Assisi, day two

Tuesday morning after breakfast I got a taxi to take me to the Carceri, the hermitage that St. Francis often used, about three miles up the mountain from Assisi.

What an oasis of peace!

I spent some time in the chapel, praying and beginning to read Carlo Carretto's I, Francis. It was providential that I had brought this book with me.

It was cold there, with ice and snow on some parts of the grounds. But I walked and read Carretto as I prayed at the site of Francis' cave.

Toward the end of my walking I found the caves of Brothers Rufino and Masseo up from the church. It was tricky getting down to Brother Masseo's cave, the descent was rocky and icy to the cave perched at the end of an abyss. As I walked to the back of the cave, I experienced a sense of peace. I looked out at the stream and hillside in front of me and felt grateful for the beauty of this place.

To get warm, I went back to the chapel and found a spot where the sun could warm me. Two groups came and went. Even though each group had someone speaking with them in Italian, the chapel was still a place of peace. I read some more and I wrote.

I left about 12:30. I had been there for more than three hours.

I walked back down to Assisi and ate lunch.

After a short rest, I went to the lower town to the basilica of Our Lady of the Angels. The small church, the Porziuncula, where St. Francis lived and died, is under the dome of this immense church. It's rather incongruous but I prayed there and later found a priest from Bangladesh who spoke English hearing confessions.

After confessing he spoke with me and asked me about the situation in Honduras. I started to tell him about the poverty, the instability, and especially my concern about the consequences of the poor coffee harvest. As I shared my fears of every hunger a few months from now, I found myself on the verge of tears. Obviously the people I try to serve have a special place in my heart.

That night, to celebrate Mardi Gras, I had a larger dinner than usual and went to bed content and full of peace.

Assisi, day one

This is a very personal blog entry, but I want to share what is happening to me here in Assisi.

I arrived late Monday morning and signed into the guesthouse where I'll be staying until Friday morning. My room looks out onto the Basilica of St. Francis.

My first visit was to the tomb of St. Francis in the crypt, a simple place to pray. After a Mass in the lower church I walked some more and then headed back for a little rest (since many churches are closed from noon to 2 or 2:30).

My first afternoon visit was to the Basilica of Santa Chiara (Saint Clare). There I stopped and prayed before the crucifix that has been in the little church of San Damiano. Praying before this crucifix, Francis experienced a call to rebuild the church.

I knelt and prayed, "Lord, what do you want me to do?"

I had a very clear sense that Jesus was telling me, "Love."

"Love my people."

"Love the little ones of this world, the poor, the people at the margin."

In one sense this is a reflection on what I've been reading.

A few days ago I finished André Vauchez's Francis of Assisi: the life and afterlife of a medieval saint. Vauchez brings out Francis' radical sense of Jesus as God who became flesh, identifying with those who have no place in this world. 

As Vauchez writes on page 258:

"For Francis, the poor and humble not only constitute the necessary instruments for the salvation of the rich and powerful, as the traditional understanding of the Psalms would have it. They are imges of Christ and acquired by that fact their own human and spiritual dignity."

There is much more in Vauchez that strikes a sympathetic chord in my heart, but his insistence on the place in Francis of a poverty based in the vision of Christ as God emptying himself leads Vauchez to offer a vision of Francis as one who followed an incarnate God. And so, Vauchez also writes, on page 32:

"Francis does not flee the world. On the contrary, he rushes to plunge himself into it in order, like his Lord, to conquer it and to reintegrate back into society the poor and all those whom power and money have excluded of it."

And so the voice of God is calling me to renew my love and commitment with the poor. 

On the train to Assisi an event of the previous night left me with a similar message.

I had gone out to a local laundromat in Ravenna to wash a few clothes. No clean underwear! The washer was malfunctioning and the owner told me to come back in two hours. When I returned two young African guys were there and we struck up a conversation. Between a mixture of Spanish, Italian, and English we manage to communicate on a minimal level. They were middle school students, born and raised in Italy, of parents from the Sahel. At one point the older guy said to his friend that I was "simpatico." I felt blessed that, despite difficulties of language and differences of culture, they felt that I had a sense of them. Maybe they felt that I really respected them for who they are.

I felt at home with them, probably at the margins of Italian society, as I feel at home with the campesinos in Honduras.

I think there is something really Franciscan about this.

Leaving Saint Clare's basilica I walked down to San Damiano and sat in the back of the small church where Francis heard God's call.

Again I felt the call to love and be with the poor of the world.

In San Damiano I experienced a joy, though my eyes filled with tears. 

The basilica of Saint Clare and the church of St. Damian were for me "thin places." 

But I cannot remain in thin places. I need to return to the world with all its pain,  boredom, and difficulties, getting into the muck of things.

This had become clear to me in the church of San Vitale in Ravenna. 

There's a labyrinth there which I walked. Beginning I felt uneasy, losing my balance at one point. But when I reached the center round circle, I faced the altar with the mosiac of the youthful Christ and prayed. 

The way out was easier, I felt centered. When I left the labyrinth I saw the large round circle in the center of the nave, right in front of me that reminded me of the similar, yet smaller, circle at the center of the labyrinth, I am called to bring the peace of the center of the labyrinth to the center of the world. 

 That's how my days in Assisi have begun. 

Pray that I am open to God's grace these days.

A change of p(l)ace

Today I leave for Italy.

Last year I turned 65 on June 1 and on June 13  celebrated five years in Honduras.

To celebrate I am taking a pilgrimage/retreat/vacation for 15 days in Italy (plus three days for travel). I had enough miles to be able to get tickets for only the cost of taxes, though lodging and food won’t be cheap.

I am somewhat reluctant to go and feel a little guilty spending so much money, but at this point I feel it’s something that may be a time of grace.

I’ll be spending the first few days in Florence and Ravenna, looking at art. In Florence I’m looking forward to see Fra Angelico’s paintings in the Dominican Convent of San Marco and the images of Francis by Giotto and others in the church of San Croce. In Ravenna I’m be looking at the mosaics.

But at the center of my time in Italy will be five days in Assisi, which will include Ash Wednesday. The spirituality of Saint Francis has been at the center of my life for many years. My recent re-connection by becoming an associate of the Dubuque Franciscan sisters has deepened my connection with the Little Poor Man of Assisi. I look forward to visits to places connected with him.

I did visit Assisi in 1973, while bicycling through Europe. The highlight for me were the visits to San Damiano (where Francis experienced a call from the crucified Christ) and the Carceri (where Francis spent time in solitude). I hope to get up early several days and walk to these places, hopefully arriving in time for an early Mass. (If it’s too cold, I might take a taxi.)

In Rome, I will probably concentrate on some churches – including the room of St. Ignatius Loyola by the Jesuit Gesù, the mosaics in Santa Prassede and Santa Pudenziana that moved the young Thomas Merton, and maybe a trip to Subiaco to recall the witnesses of Saints Benedict, Scholastica, and Francis. If I can I also hope to get to the church of San Bartolomeo when the San Egidio Community has a shrine to modern martyrs.

In Rome I also hope to meet some friends.

 Part will be vacation – I’m looking forward to some good Italian food and wine. But it is also a pilgrimage, a visit to places made holy, a visit to some “thin places,” as Jim Forest notes,  “where ordinary matter seems charged with God’s presence…. What marks any thin place is the time-stopping awareness of God’s presence.”

And so I go – my heart heavy about leaving Honduras for this time, but hoping and praying that God may use this time to open my heart even more to His love, so that I may continue to serve Him with the poor of Honduras.

Please keep me in your prayers. May it be a time of conversion.

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--> “To be converted is to go out of oneself, to walk toward the other, to be a pilgrim.”

Fr. Jaime Restrepo, martyr of Antioquía, Colombia, 1988