Battles, Buildings and Birds

Immediately upon arriving to our rooms, a dispute arose over who would sleep in which bed during our temporary pilgrimage. Three beds were lined up together against one wall, and the fourth lay along the opposite wall at the foot of the others. In all other respects the beds were identical. But because the fourth was set apart from the others, by its position it became the territory for which one waged war against another.

Besides this conflict, the building turned out to be a very nice hotel. What I liked most was the fact that when you opened the window you would hear a sudden flapping and fluttering of wings as birds burst forth and flew away. I had often seen this depicted in various ways, but had never experienced the thrill of the sound of rushing wings.

(Pigeons!)

We arose the next morning to explore the town of Assisi. Assisi is a small, old town with narrow, winding, cobblestone streets and old pleasant buildings, dirty more with age than with city grime. The city has been relatively well-preserved through the ages. Wars usually bring the destruction of buildings, but Assisi was fortunate and even escaped great damage during the bombings of World War II. During that time the city became a place of hiding for many Jews. After the first bombing, a Christian general, knowing of this secret, quickly used his influence to have the town declared a hospital town. This prevented the allies from further bombing and saved the city’s buildings from destruction.  One such building was the Church of St. Francis.  This building was built over the burial place of St. Francis so that it rested upon his grave.

 (The door on the lower left of the last picture)

The church was full of paintings which depicted scenes from the life of St. Francis. Francis was far from being a saint when he was young. As the son of a wealthy cloth merchant, he began by pursuing earthly glory through victory in war. He volunteered to be a soldier in a military campaign and his wealthy father bought him the most expensive armor and sent him off to war. In the army he met a poor knight with old battered armor. Seeing the man’s wrenched condition Francis insisted that they exchange armor, for the knight who had fought in many wars was more worthy of honor than he. And so he gave up the defense which wealth affords to wear the protection of a better man. But others thought him foolish, for he had traded armor worth 100 hides for armor worth only 9.

(Francis exchanging clothing with a knight)

On their way to war, St. Francis had a dream. In this dream he heard a voice asking him “Is it better to serve the Master or the servant?”

“The master,” he replied

The voice then said, “Choose whom you will serve this day."

Considering his vision, Francis determined that it was a warning not to go to war, so the following morning Francis road back to Assisi alone. He returned with nothing; he had received no honor, no plunder, no glory nor any of the benefits of war. Furthermore, his father and the townspeople perceived his return as a sign of fear and cowardice. And so St. Francis became poorer in the eyes of his countrymen.

(Statue outside the Church: I love how dejected it looks, and how he is moving towards the church)

After this, Francis turned to more spiritual matters, and the luxuries and revelries of his friends became less attractive. One night he received a message in a dream, where he was told by a voice from heaven, “Build My church.” Interpreting this to mean that he should rebuild the abandoned chapel near the outskirts of Assisi, he set to work. To raise the necessary funds, he sold some of his father’s cloth, for his father was a cloth merchant. Taking what was left over, he freely gave to the poor and needy. Hearing of his son's doings, his father dragged him before the Bishop.

“Look here what a wastrel lies within my house. For rather than choose a profession, such as a doctor or a lawyer as is the custom among men, he rather chooses to fritter away his time in whatever flight of fancy should sparkle in his eye, as though he were some song bird making sweet melody for no gain. He has no eye for business but makes light of gleaming gold and shining silver. Who will provide for him if he should fall? Who will clothe him with solemn splendor? I am ashamed to say his mother bore him, for such a child brings naught but shame. But do I not have a claim on him? Do I not possess a share in this boy? Look not upon him, for to own that were a shame; but look upon all he has around him. This cloth is mine, the money from its sale is mine; the food he had for lunch was mine, the food he will have for dinner will have been mine, his bed is my bed, his house is my house. Indeed, the very clothes with which he covers his shame before you are mine. Therefore, bid him not repay me with injury but to do as custom prescribes and obey the dictates of an older man. ”

(Francis being covered by the Bishop)

The Bishop, unable to deny the justice of the father’s plea, bade Francis return his father’s cloth. Francis, obeying, took the rolls of cloth and cast them before his father, and then he removed his clothes saying, “you may have your cloth, henceforth I will accept nothing that belongs to you.” At this he left the town square naked as the flowers of nature. But the Bishop, not wishing to offend against the customs of men, took his own cloak and spread it around St. Francis. And so the Bishop took St. Francis in as a son. On that day St. Francis left his father and cleaved unto poverty.

Francis eventually decided that he should start a religious order. He traveled to Rome to ask the Pope's permission. Now some years before, another man had come with a similar request. When he was denied he was upset and began to form his own sect, where he taught heresy. This experience made the Pope suspicious of St. Francis. However, one night as he slept  he had a dream in which he saw St. Francis holding up a Church.  He took this to mean that God was working through him to strengthen the church. With this assurance the Pope willingly supported the Franciscan order.

(Look at the roundness of the left figure's knee. This is just before the beginning of the Renaissance)

After the tour, I had the option of going on an optional hike to the place where St. Francis would retire to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city, or visiting a nearby castle and wandering the streets and tourist shops of Assisi. I chose the hike. St. Francis is said to have frequently made the trip barefoot. Many decided to follow his example and walk all the way without shoes as a way to mortify the flesh. With or without shoes, our flesh was certainly mortified or at least soaked by the continual drizzle. Despite the downpour, the walk was pleasant enough and the view was very nice.

There are a succession of several little tunnels, caves and rooms. I was very surprised at how small and bare they were. It was a simple building that looked as if it had been built and extended and added to in an a haphazard way, depending on the conditions of time and circumstance. It seemed more like something which naturally collected and built up in a gap in the mountain side over time, rather than something which an artisan decided to construct one day.

 (It's smaller and humbler than it looks)

It is said that in this place, St. Francis was walking along when he was suddenly filled, by the Holy Spirit, with a strong urge to preach. Since there was no one else nearby, he began to speak to the birds.

Sing harmony to God, you birds, and raise your voices to proclaim His great provision; for He fitted you with wings and fashioned them with flying feathers. He taught you how to build your nests, and in His kingdom you have refuge. Nor will He suffer you to go without the things you need. When Elijah was in the wilderness, the Lord sent him bread by ravens. If the Lord uses birds to bring His servant food, then will He forget to feed the flocks who are waiters?  Therefore, do not contend with one another, waging war for food. But rather, live in harmonious love, trusting Him who disposes all things.

It is said that the birds stopped going about their business and looked on Francis with attentive eyes. Furthermore, all other animals passing by paused to listen, and the wolf and the hare declared peace between themselves to lie down and hear what Francis spoke. They made neither sound nor motion until after the sermon had come to a conclusion and they had received his parting blessing. I am sure St. Francis found the birds a far more attentive audience than most.

(The tree the birds were in when he preached to them)

By the time we returned, it was getting late.  The rain forbade us from desiring to venture out any further. We ate dinner and went to bed with the cooing of the pigeons outside our window.  Early the next morning, we packed our bags and I bid the birds a final farewell.

(From Subiaco: Portrait of St. Francis made during his life.)



To Assisi

Today we left Rome. We haven’t stayed there too long but it has already become a kind of home, away from home, as far as anyone could be at home in a foreign land. We each went out into our respective buses and began our journey. We passed pleasant pastures and antique towns. These towns were full of squat little colored buildings mixed together in a crowded collage. And there, in the center of it all a dome, or a steeple, or the bell tower of some tall church rising above the clustered shelters and stretching upward towards heaven. It is really quite remarkable how in all or nearly all the towns we passed the church is the highest building, built at the highest point.

I couldn't get a good picture in the car, so here is the view from Assisi. It's close enough.

We continued on some way when I saw something that made me jump and my soul sing one word, “Mountains!”  I live in a place where there are many mountains and going to school in Dallas where I don’t have an opportunity to admire their majesty. Seeing them standing high pointing to the celestial heavens made me feel more at home.  

Halfway through our journey, we came across a foggy forest, dense with leafless trees and grey mist. I cannot help but think that Dante had seen something like this when he wrote in his first canto of a tangled wood. Dante is lost in a wood of error trying desperately to climb the side of a hill. However he is unable to make any progress by his own power. He is so badly off that Virgil is sent to guide him along another path, for he must descend before he can ascend.

 I really wish I had a good picture

It was a most enchanting wood of error. But if it did have any power, then it did not cast the same spell over my companion as it did on me. For when he saw Dante’s wood, he sighed and said “It’s a shame this space isn’t being used for something useful! Chop down the trees, put up buildings, and do something productive on the land.”  At this my roommate Luke remarked he could not even imagine what kind of a world he would live in. At this point the bus entered the mouth of a cave-like tunnel through the mountain. The dim orange tinted likes glowed in the dark concrete cave casting dull half-dead shadows in every direction.

“Never mind,” Luke said. “I can imagine.”

At last we reached our first stop at Subiaco, the monastery where St. Benedict began his ministry. It was built in a high place on the top of a mountain.  St. Benedict was an important figure in the development of monasticism. He is the first person to lay down a set of rules and regulations for monks.

When Christianity was legalized in Rome, and was accepted in every household, it became no longer possible to prove your dedication by a martyr’s death. Hence they sought other ways, for in those days, there were many people who in their pride competed with each other to be considered the most holy.

They outdid each other in fasting and undid each other in praying loudly. Whoever could put out the more outrageous display of self-denial and self-sacrifice could consider themselves the most outstanding in holiness. One person erected a pillar in the city far above the busy street. He lived atop this pillar for many years, removing himself from the world by placing himself above it, and having his friends pass him up food from below. Those who came after him, wishing to be set apart like him, erected larger pillars that they might be closer to heaven and further from the world. St. Benedict helped to correct these abuses and bring order to the chaos.

We began our tour in the Lower church. It was literally built into the mountain, so some of the walls were actually the mountain stones. Every surface was painted; mostly green with scenes from St. Benedict's life depicted all around. Sr. Catherine told us about each episode. Benedict was once a student who left his home in northern Italy and came to study in Rome. When Benedict saw the decadence of Rome and how each person laid up pleasures and treasures and made their home in the world, he disgusted departed from that city to return to his home.

As he traveled through the mountains he met a hermit named Romano who encouraged him to devote himself to God through the religious life. Inspired by the worlds of Romano, Benedict decided to dwell in the top of the mountain and descended into a cave where he prayed all day. He made this small cramped space his abode, and remained there an entire year. No one knew he was there save Romano who carried him food and drink to sustain him during his stay.

The Cave. With satue of Benedict.

We descended down a flight of stairs called the eternal staircase. On the right there was a depiction of triumphant death riding on a horse cutting down all for none escape him. On the left there was a priest speaking to the rich and affluent, those who love material goods and build great homes from themselves on earth, reminding them that they too will one day die like the beggar.

At the bottom of the staircase there was another cave known as the cave of the shepherds.  After St. Benedict had been in his cave for a long time some shepherds discovered him. They spoke with him and he taught them many things. As his original cave was too small for all of them, it became their custom to meet in this larger cave. Here St. Benedict began his ministry by instructing these poor shepherds whose home was the mountainside and whose possessions were small.  The cave of the shepherds contains one of our oldest Christian paintings. This image cast upon the cave of the wall served to turn men’s minds towards the light of heaven above, rather than on things below.

 The Shepherd's cave.

Painting in the Byzantine Style. About 5th centry AD.

We returned up the eternal staircase, for stares run up as well as down, and proceeded into the upper church. As word spread from the shepherds of this holy man, more and more people came by to visit him. At last, a delegation of monks came to request that he become their new Abbot, thinking that to have such a well-reputed man would exalt their monastery above others. Benedict initially declined, warning them that he would be too strict and austere a master for them. But they insisted, and so Benedict became their abbot. Soon the Monks became disgruntled at him, for they were not merely denied their earthly luxuries, but also failed to obtain the public honors as compensation. Thus they conspired to get rid of St. Benedict. And so they offered him a cup of poison. But St. Benedict, knowing what they were doing, blessed the cup, and it split in two. This is one of the many miracles which he performed.

Painting in the Upper Church



St. Benedict would eventually write down his regulations into what became known as the rule of St. Benedict. In this rule he specified that since humans live in their bodies, it was important not to neglect the temple of the Lord through over-fasting and abuse. Thus he required his monks to eat, drink, and sleep a minimum amount of time. By giving a strict rule for each to follow he created an equality of sorts, and reduced the opportunity for monks to compete with each other for holiness.

At last we left the monastery. On the way down the mountain we passed by the ruins of one of Nero’s summer homes. Nero built many mansions which he would stay in for a time before moving on. Nothing remained of this once great house except a pile of broken bricks hardly worth noticing, for when the king who dwells there departs, the exterior slowly becomes nothing.

At last we reached the hotel we would be staying in during our journey.