So I near the end of my visit. The walk up to the Carceri on Saturday brought back so many memories - of the campsite (Fontebello) in which I stayed back in '77 and which I hardly recognised; of the Carceri itself, hanging on the edge of the mountain surrounded by dense forest, so quiet and timeless and where I spent time just being there.
Assisi itself is, of course, timeless and although Francis would not recognise the place (except for his home, now contained in a church; the portico of S. Maria Sopra Minerva, an ancient Roman temple and the old Cathedral of S. Maria Magiore, and a few other places) the city suffers from its glory. It is preserved, a timeless memorial that has been accorded World Heritage status by UNESCO (somewhat worse that English Heritage). And, once you stop development you run the danger of something dying. And whilst there is so much to celebrate about the place, it is sad that it has to be preserved. Tourists and pilgrims my benefit from the peace, beauty and 'spirituality' of Assisi, but it is at a cost, as is true for other places like this.
The walk up to the hermitage took 90 mins and seemed steeper than it did half a lifetime ago! The walk back, just 45 mins... I attended the evening's pilgrimage Mass and was once more moved by the singing and devotion and noted the number of young people who attended. There seems no dearth of young vocations to the Religious Life here and one can see others here to consider their call. It's all very impressive as was the procession to the Shrine at the end of Mass. Hundreds of people quietly walking round the tomb, most touching the stone, others wiping handkerchiefs against the walls (just as they did in the Acts of the Apostles). There are always people praying in the churches - how I wish that were true in England! (Of course, I speak of non-RC churches...) Those unknown moments when people are before God in silence - what is the heart saying?
On Sunday I joined the Anglican congregation for Mass at St. Leonard's. They were very hospitable and numbered about 20, many of whom were visitors, like me. Yesterday I walked to the Rocca Magiore, that great fortress which stands guard over the city and has done so since the time of Franc ('tho, again, he would not recognise the structure which was rebuilt in the 16th cent. by the Papal Legate when Assisi was part of the Papal States). I went on to the Cathedral of San Rufino to visit the simple Pieta which has moved so many people. Somehow it didn't quite make the same impression, but later I read that the original had been stolen in 1987...
So my time here, and in Italy, draws to a close. It has been a remarkable tour and quite fulfilled my intentions. I have seen some of the worlds greatest art and architecture and understood something more of the way it developed and the part Renaissance art played in the development of Europe. Today and tomorrow I shall just enjoy being here and enjoying the warmth and brightness of the place. I have been blessed by Brother Sun and watched Sister Moon each evening. And I am grateful to all those who have made this time possible.
Showing posts with label Assisi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Assisi. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Saturday, September 26, 2009
SABBATICAL MUSINGS (3)
Assisi - this city of pink and white stone nestling on the green slopes of Mt. Subiaso. I last came here in 1977 dressed in the habit of Francis. At first sight little seems to have changed, except it all looks - fresher. But look again and there are still the cranes rebuilding houses shattered in the terrible earthquake of 1997. But the work of restoration has been painstaking and few would know what has been lost of the great frescoes which adorn the churches here.
I arrived by bus from Perugia on Wednesday and am staying with the Atonement Sisters whose convent guest house overlooks the basilica of Santa Chiara. The views are breathtaking. I discovered I had arrived at the beginning of the Novena for the Feast of San Francesco and went down to the basilica for the 5.45pm Procession and Concelebrated Mass, presided over by the Bishop of Assisi. Once in the lower basilica I realised I was seated beneath the Giotto of Francis (they say its a true likeness) and, as the Mass progressed, found myself moved to tears. A mixture of emotions - knowing that when I was last here I would have been dressed in the same habit as the scores of Franciscans, many of them quite young; the sense of the universality of the Catholic Church; the wonderfully haunting folk music which accompanied the Mass - all this and more brought on an overwhelming sense that here one touches the divine. And it was that, that unexpected encounter with God, which brought on my tears.
Later I found a small, empty restaurant and ate supper in the garden with its panoramic views over the plain and watched the moon as it rose over Umbria.
Yesterday I attended Mass at S. Chiara (in Polish with an interminably long sermon to a score or so Poor Clares) before walking down the hill to San Damiano. That was where the crucifix spoke to Francis and told him to "rebuild the church"; where he first lived before moving to Rivo Torto, and where S. Clare began her first community. It is redolent in meaning; one of those thin places where the mystery of God is to be known.
Afterwards I decided to make a day of it and walked another 4 km to Rivo Torto arriving just as the church closed for siesta. So, finding a cheap roadside cafe, I stretched out my legs and spent a long time over a couple of cups of coffee. I was pleased to have waited as the church, containing the (doubtless rebuilt) huts in which Francis and his first brothers lived and where his body lay for a while after his death, was a tranquil oasis of calm.
Leaving Rivo Torto I was fortunate to find the (hourly) bus to Santa Maria della Angeli arriving. So that meant I didn't have to face another 2km walk!
Whilst many despise the baroque basilica built to house the tiny chapel of the Angels and the place where Franis died, I do not find it overbearing. Indeed, because the place wasn't full of pilgrims and tourists I enjoyed the sense of spaciousness. And this is, first and foremot, a place of prayer. As if to underline that I counted no fewer than 24 confessionals, many of them clearly in use and advertising the languages spoken by the priest. The tiny church possibly goes back to the 6th century and has some moving frescoes. But it is the stillness and prayerfulness of the place (spoilt only by an English tour guide), and the devotion of pilgrims which communicates.
After spending time in the church I walked through to the Chapel of the Roses, past the statue of St. Francis bearing in his hands the tiny nest of white dove. And, with great joy, I found the dove was there, blinking occasionally as a hoard of schoolchildren marvelled at the sight.
The day ended when I took Br. Thomas Anthony SSF out to supper. Today, being yet another fine, sunny and hot day, I think I shall walk up to the Carceri. So many memories...
I arrived by bus from Perugia on Wednesday and am staying with the Atonement Sisters whose convent guest house overlooks the basilica of Santa Chiara. The views are breathtaking. I discovered I had arrived at the beginning of the Novena for the Feast of San Francesco and went down to the basilica for the 5.45pm Procession and Concelebrated Mass, presided over by the Bishop of Assisi. Once in the lower basilica I realised I was seated beneath the Giotto of Francis (they say its a true likeness) and, as the Mass progressed, found myself moved to tears. A mixture of emotions - knowing that when I was last here I would have been dressed in the same habit as the scores of Franciscans, many of them quite young; the sense of the universality of the Catholic Church; the wonderfully haunting folk music which accompanied the Mass - all this and more brought on an overwhelming sense that here one touches the divine. And it was that, that unexpected encounter with God, which brought on my tears.
Later I found a small, empty restaurant and ate supper in the garden with its panoramic views over the plain and watched the moon as it rose over Umbria.
Yesterday I attended Mass at S. Chiara (in Polish with an interminably long sermon to a score or so Poor Clares) before walking down the hill to San Damiano. That was where the crucifix spoke to Francis and told him to "rebuild the church"; where he first lived before moving to Rivo Torto, and where S. Clare began her first community. It is redolent in meaning; one of those thin places where the mystery of God is to be known.
Afterwards I decided to make a day of it and walked another 4 km to Rivo Torto arriving just as the church closed for siesta. So, finding a cheap roadside cafe, I stretched out my legs and spent a long time over a couple of cups of coffee. I was pleased to have waited as the church, containing the (doubtless rebuilt) huts in which Francis and his first brothers lived and where his body lay for a while after his death, was a tranquil oasis of calm.
Leaving Rivo Torto I was fortunate to find the (hourly) bus to Santa Maria della Angeli arriving. So that meant I didn't have to face another 2km walk!
Whilst many despise the baroque basilica built to house the tiny chapel of the Angels and the place where Franis died, I do not find it overbearing. Indeed, because the place wasn't full of pilgrims and tourists I enjoyed the sense of spaciousness. And this is, first and foremot, a place of prayer. As if to underline that I counted no fewer than 24 confessionals, many of them clearly in use and advertising the languages spoken by the priest. The tiny church possibly goes back to the 6th century and has some moving frescoes. But it is the stillness and prayerfulness of the place (spoilt only by an English tour guide), and the devotion of pilgrims which communicates.
After spending time in the church I walked through to the Chapel of the Roses, past the statue of St. Francis bearing in his hands the tiny nest of white dove. And, with great joy, I found the dove was there, blinking occasionally as a hoard of schoolchildren marvelled at the sight.
The day ended when I took Br. Thomas Anthony SSF out to supper. Today, being yet another fine, sunny and hot day, I think I shall walk up to the Carceri. So many memories...
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