“La Via di Francesco”: September 16 to October 24, 2019
By Brother Christopher
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| Poggio San Lorenzo, Lazio, Italy |
I’m not
sure exactly when the idea of making a pilgrimage began to arise within me, but
I do know that its origin was primarily interior. In the year before my 65th
birthday I felt an inner impulse to mark this approaching milestone in some
sort of special way. Since I have been in monastic life for 43 years, what
began to attract me was a walking pilgrimage in which I’d have the time to reflect
on the course of my life and my hopes for the future. By no means was this idea
precipitated by a crisis of faith. In fact, I would say it was just the
opposite: It arose from a deep sense that the Spirit was inspiring this,
leading me to take a mini-sabbatical of sorts that would give me the opportunity
to listen and reflect in a very focused way.
While I was aware of the famous pilgrim
route of St James de Compostela, I have to be honest in saying that I was wary
of its popularity. Large numbers of pilgrims make that walk every year, and I
feared its busyness. I was attracted to a quieter, more solitary walk. Then I
became aware of “La Via di Francesco – The Way of St Francis,” a 540-kilometer
walk in Italy going from Florence, to Assisi, and finally to Rome. It was a
pilgrimage that linked sites that were important in the life of St Francis of
Assisi over a span of approximately 28 days. Because of New Skete’s connection
to our Franciscan roots and the continued importance of Francis and Clare in
our monastic life, this seemed like a perfect fit. So, I brought the idea
before the community, and they graciously agreed to support me in this journey.
I made plans to do the pilgrimage from mid-September to the latter part of
October, 2019. I would make the walk in such a way that it would leave me some
extra days to spend in Florence, Assisi, and Rome. I would begin my pilgrimage
in Florence, spending a couple of days of retreat at the Jerusalem Community,
an urban monastic community that has houses in Paris, several other European
cities, and Montreal. I wanted to begin the pilgrimage with prayer, and the
community graciously let me stay with them for several days. Then I would start
walking, moving from stage to stage with each day. I particularly wanted to be
able to experience Assisi as a pilgrim, not as a tourist, and so I planned
several days there. The second half of the pilgrimage would proceed from there
and finally end in Rome—assuming, that is, that my feet held out! Then, on my
way home, I would make a short retreat at Taizé, the well-known ecumenical
monastic community in France, and finally conclude my journey in the heart of Paris,
spending two days with the Jerusalem Community there.
And so the pilgrimage happened. I
cannot begin to describe the importance it had, and continues to have, for me.
It turned out to be more than I could have ever hoped for, and I will be mining
its many lessons for years to come. The walk itself immersed me in a landscape
of beauty that was perfectly suited for my purpose in making the pilgrimage. It
was challenging, gorgeous, and so very peaceful and quiet. I was surprised (and
a bit gratified) that I didn’t see a large number of pilgrims along the way,
and those I did were pleasant and respectful of the kind of pilgrimage I was
on. All along the way I had the opportunity to spend time praying in church
after church for the healing of the centuries-old divisions in the Church. A
particularly meaningful part of the pilgrimage was being in Assisi for four
days, which happened to coincide with the feast of St Francis on October 4. I
shall never forget an hour I spent in prayer at San Damiano, the small church
where in the 13th century Francis heard a voice from the cross say, “Francis,
rebuild my church, for as you see it is falling down.” Francis understood the
voice literally, since the little church where he was praying was in ruins. Only
years later would the real meaning of the voice be evident: It would be
Francis’ task to initiate desperately needed renewal in the church of his time.
Inspiration comes in so many
different ways. During the greater part of my pilgrimage I found it primarily
in the context of solitary walking in the midst of untiring physical beauty. I
felt deeply the spirit of Francis and why his example has captivated and
inspired believers of all faiths. This gradually began to expand and shift naturally
when I got to Rome and visited and prayed in churches that exemplify some of
the finest expressions of human creativity and beauty. I think of the apsidial
mosaics of Santa Maria Maggiore, Santa Maria in Trestevere, and Saint Paul
Outside of the Walls, where all I could do was gaze in awe at the beauty: beauty
that so witnesses to the grandeur and goodness of God. Then, this inspiration
shifted again as I ended my days of pilgrimage visiting Taizé and the Jerusalem
Community in Paris. Here the inspiration centered on the witness of community,
of brothers and sisters living a vibrant and serious monastic life of deep
relevance to our time. In both places liturgical worship was at the core of
their life, and it reinforced my conviction that good liturgical prayer is not
only aesthetically beautiful and attractive, but spiritually rich. It grounds
our relationship with Jesus, allowing it to tie our whole day—indeed our whole
life—into a seamless garment. It also generates the energy necessary to witness
prophetically to the values of the Gospel.
Naturally, trying to briefly
summarize five weeks of pilgrimage is a bit crazy. Looking over what I’ve
written makes me painfully aware of all that I’ve left out. My only hope is
that this little essay gives readers a glimpse, a taste of what for me was
something that I shall be forever grateful for. For all of you who supported me
through your prayers and generosity, know that my gratitude is deep and
sincere.
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| Cross of San Damiano now in Basilica of St Clare |
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| Mosaic in Santa Maria Maggiore |
