As we approached the outskirts of Assisi, already my heart was pounding in anticipation of finally landing on Saint Francis's turf. He'd always been my favorite saint, mainly because of his way with birds and animals. Already the feeling of this remarkable man was palpable to me. "Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace," came to mind a lot during explorations in and around his home town.
A few miles before reaching Assisi, we stopped in what I call "Angel Town" with it's magnificent cathedral topped off with a gilded Jesus ... this day shining in the bluest of skies for all to glorify (if they looked up). Note: Actually we found out later when we enlarged this image in Photoshop, it was a gilded Mary with long hair, not Jesus! This was Basilica of St. Mary of the Angels and ranks among Christianity's most majestic basilicas.
The Piazza in front of the church was bulging with souvenir stands touting their wares. It struck me as incredibly hilarious to see hundreds, even thousands, of crosses, fat ceramic monks in brown robes, and Saint Francis 'stuff' that defies adequate description ... all for sale in Euro dollars to the droves of eager tourists. OK, so we bought T-shirts!
As we entered the beautiful basilica, we saw Padres and Nunsies all over the place. I was instantly entranced by this 'wee church' right in the middle of the basilica with the official name, Portiuncula.
Here's a neat quote, "...and I saw a marvelously beautiful and grand church, enlarged through an astonishing prodigy ... and my soul was struck with wonderment ... because I knew that the tiny church called Portiuncala was a very small one. (Bl Angela of Foligno, 1238-1309)
What blows my mind is that the whole basilica was built AROUND this wee church, for it was so revered. I sat in the back of a tiny wooden pew within this miniscule church (there are only about 10 seats altogether) and did a pencil sketch of the alter. I would have painted it but the praying people around me probably would not appreciate paint smells. Rendering a place always makes it more 'mine' somehow, in some kind intimate connection.
Then finally to Assisi to track down where Saint Francis liked to spend time. Our first major quest was to the Carceri Hermitage which was the place Francis loved to go to get away from the maddening crowds to contemplate and pray.
It was here, through Fra Sylvester, he received an invitation from the Lord urging him to complete the life of contemplation he loved with the active apostolate among his fellowmen so as to bring others to the following of Christ.
This occurred even though, "He longed to flee the company of men, and withdraw to the most remote solitude, to rid himself of every care, and all responsibility for others, so that nothing else would remain between him and God but the screen of the flesh."(Celano,Life 1 St. Francis,n. 103)
So you can see our eagerness to walk in the same area of beautiful earth that St. Francis loved so much. Not only that, the Chapel of St. Mary Magdalene was there too (15th century) and she is one of my favorite ladies.
Our intent was clear but now came the tricky part ... the weather this day of OUR pilgrimage turned from sunny blue skies to torrential wind strewn storm as we arduously wound our rental car which I named 'C.C,' after the first two letters on our license plate (amazingly sounding like Assisi) -- but then this whole trip was saturated with synchronicity! Up, up, up, this windy, windy road to find the Carceri Hermitage.
It was said that the vista view from here was remarkable but we didn't see but a minute glimpse of it through the mist and dense clouds. Eventually, we got there and I donned my Yellow Bubble plastic rain coat, rolled up my pants legs from the drenching rain and stuffed my socks into my pockets all in an effort not to get totally soaked.
It worked, sort of ...
We found St. Francis's other tiny church and sat in the back row of the itsy bitsy pews to contemplate and feel the presence of this remarkable man still very much here in spirit -- my knees jammed against the bench in front. I could feel his presence and it is good. This church is said to be the smallest church in the world. No doubt!
My camera was clicking happily as I took gobs more photos for our "Doors and Windows of the World" book. St.Francis and his brothers must have been rather short fellows to get through these tiny doors, or maybe as Jim suggested, they bowed through in some sort of penance.
There was much more to experience in this spread out Hermitage but the wild storm and our increasingly soggy clothes precluded further jaunts between the buildings. Hardly anyone was here as it was, except this unexpected pile of people that all squeezed into the Smallest Church in the World while a pleasant Franciscan Padre gave a little service in some foreign language ...Russian maybe. Then they promptly all left never to be seen again.
There were caves along these mountain paths up here and Jim said in the days of St. Francis, some Brothers would live in these caves. One thing for sure, it would be true solitude up here in the dead of winter with only candles and no furnace. No TV's, radio, CD's, computers, cell phones, cars or McDonalds (Oh, by the way, we DID see the real McDonalds in Assisi, Florence and if I remember right, even in Venice).
What they did have was peace of mind, heart and soul. Hmm! Is there something to learn here? Well, yes, but I'm not about to give up technology -- such as my terrific little Palm Pilot computer and foldable keyboard, which allowed me ease in writing up this story 'on the spot,' more or less, which might otherwise have mostly faded into the ethers.
I say, "Let's find a way to have the best of both worlds."
The end
