Spirit of Place

Your architecture critic reflects on saintly buildings.

I'm reading a book about St. Francis that my friend Keith gave me. 

It’s a guide to the various buildings in and around Assisi and Rome where Francis, and Clare, his follower and then colleague, were born, wandered in the countryside, worshipped, had visions, rejected their rich controlling parents, touched lepers, went on pilgrimage, rebuilt churches, attracted thousands of followers, settled into community, met the pope, preached to animals, retreated into caves, and finally, where each of them died and were buried. 

My friend Keith is a Franciscan friar, a member of the order Francis started 800 years ago.  Unlike Clare and Francis, Keith was not born rich and noble.  But like them, he did reject the norms of his upbringing, in his case suburban Protestantism, and became like them a free spirit.  His spiritual rebellion was to become a 70’s Jesus Freak, living with others like him in a commune in rural Oregon, devoting themselves to planting trees for Jesus.

Someone told Keith that his love of Jesus and of nature reminded them of St. Francis's.  That intrigued him.  Also the wet Oregon forests were starting to get to him.  So Keith came back to civilization, did the long process of becoming a Franciscan, got a Ph.D. in sustainable agriculture from UC Santa Cruz and now teaches spirituality and sustainability at Santa Clara University.  Interesting guy.

A few years ago Keith and I were leading a retreat together where he lives at the St. Francis Retreat Center and we were in their bookstore looking at hundreds of books about Francis.  “What’s one book I could read about Francis that would give me a good flavor of the man and his ministry, his world view, his call?”  Keith and I are both sort of academic types, we like history and theology.  I expected a straight biography with lots of footnotes.  So I was surprised when he recommended this book, In the Footsteps of Francis and Clare, by another friar who has lead retreats to Assisi and Rome for 25 years. 

The book is a pilgrimage guide, 20 or so short chapters, not really chronological, or with a thesis to propound, but more meditative, especially about “spirit of place,” how not just people but places can inspire and change us. It encourages the pilgrim reader to learn about Francis and Clare by visiting a range of sacred sites associated with them, houses and churches and piazzas and walls and caves and roads and mountains.  There’s travel advice but also pastoral reflections about what the visitor pilgrim can learn of their own life and faith by visiting these sites.

Our Lady of the Angels of Assisi ChapelIt’s ironic, of course, that a man who preached the spiritual value of poverty, and tried to convince the Pope that members of his order should not own property or have possessions (he lost that fight), is honored in his home town with rich churches and commercial tours.  The man and his places draw millions annually.  I am confident most of them are pilgrims more than tourists.  Let's hope they go home more willing to identify with the poor and ready to shed some possession.  I can only hope it’s like Luther’s comment about the Bible, when he said scripture is like the baby in the manger, there’s lots of straw there, but keep looking – the holy one can be found in its midst.  There's lots of glitz and postcards in Assisi, but Francis and Clare still attract followers and still change lives.

As an armchair pilgrim I am finding myself intrigued by one particular building in Assisi, a huge Baroque sanctuary, St. Mary of the Angels.  Ordered built by the Pope three centuries after Francis’ death, because of the huge crowds of pilgrims, the ornate church holds within it two smaller, tiny really, buildings where Francis did spend much time, the Porziuncola, a small chapel, where Francis first heard God's call and where Clare took her vows, and the Capella del Transito, the shack that was his community's infirmary, where Francis died in 1226, age 44.  These two buildings, originally hovels, are now cleaned up and frescoed and sheltered by this massive church.

Capella del TransitoMore irony about Francis and buildings.  His first sense of call came when he was sitting in the then crumbling Porziuncola and heard God say, “Francis, repair my church.”  With his own hands he literally repaired the already ancient chapel.  But he later realized God had called him to broader repair, of souls, and the wider church.  He did that too, and still does, if the first Pope to take his name, Pope Francis, is any indication.  The man who preached about Sister Water inspired a pope who sees the whole planet as sacred home, not just designated religious buildings.

And there’s irony too in how the tiny first aid shack is now so much fancier than he ever saw it.  Francis really didn’t want to spend his last hours in there anyway; he insisted as he died that he be stripped naked and laid outside on the bare dirt to connect most directly with Mother Earth during his “transito.” There was his death house, outdoors.

In both cases the man free of possessions really did free himself of these buildings, or move beyond them.  He could not be “housed,” “domesticated.”  But we still try.

I think Keith gave me this book because he knew that his own call to follow Francis was not an academic one, but a change of heart, a calling experienced not a set of ideas studied.  And he probably heard my question as a seeker’s, not a scholar’s. 

Thanks, Keith.

Copyright © Deborah Streeter