“Repair My Church”

For many years, when I thought about St. Francis of Assisi (1181-1226), I focused more on the saint’s relationship with animals and what was relayed in the Canticle of the Sun and “The Prayer of St. Francis” (which was written about 700 years after he lived). Despite his emphasis of praising God and recognizing the beauty in creatures and creation, I considered the depiction of this saint as saccharine at best.

My concept of this saint began to change in my last years of seminary. My spiritual director was a Capuchin Friar, Fr. Lester. I greatly respected his wisdom and his spiritual insights. In small and subtle ways, Fr. Lester introduced me to a more well-rounded understanding of the teachings of St. Francis. In particular, a picture Fr. Lester shared of St. Francis lovingly embracing and intently gazing at a crucifix continues to fascinate me. Slowly, my view of St. Francis was becoming more substantial.

This last year when I hiked the Cammino of St. Benedict, to my surprise, I spent much more time reflecting on the life of St. Francis than I did on St. Benedict during the first half of the journey. 

Before we began the Cammino proper, we spent a couple of days in Assisi. The story of St. Francis cannot be told without telling of his relationship with the Benedictines, especially in Assisi. In 1205, while praying before the crucifix in forsaken San Damiano Church, Francis heard Jesus say to him, “Go repair my Church, which as you see is falling completely in ruin.” At first, he began repairing that church and others which had fallen into ruins, including the Porziuncola, a small chapel on edge of property of Benedictine Abbey of San Subasio. In 1211, the Abbot gave this chapel to Francis; it was there he officially established the Franciscan order. The first Mass our group celebrated on our trip was in one of the side chapels in the Basilica of Santa Maria degli Angeli, which surrounds the Porziuncola which we prayed in following that Mass.

In 1223, Francis made a pilgrimage to Subiaco where Benedict first lived as a hermit and later returned to establish a monastery. It seems fair to presume that Francis was drawn to the holy site to learn from the life of St. Benedict and from his spiritual sons. But, it also seems like Francis must have inspired the monks and other pilgrims by the visit. A fresco of Francis was painted shortly after his visit. The painting is the oldest known painting of St. Francis; in fact, the absence of a halo and of the stigmata in the painting indicates that he was still living when it was painted. Even in this site that is one of the crown jewels of the Benedictine world, to this day that fresco of St. Francis remains one of the most precious artistic works at Subiaco. When I was praying in the Sacro Speco, the cave where St. Benedict lived as a hermit, in addition to asking St. Benedict to pray for me, for our monks, oblates, apostolates, benefactors, friends, and Benedictines around the world, I also spent some time pondering what St. Francis and so many other saintly pilgrims over the centuries must have experienced in that location.

In that same year, St. Francis led him to create the first every living nativity scene in the small town of Greccio. Throughout that region, nativity scenes are set up year-round whether below the Cathedral in Rieti, other churches, or in little street-side nooks in many of the towns. 

In the area near Rieti, often called the Holy Valley, the camminos of St. Benedict and St. Francis share the same path. Many of the more famous sites tell of the life of the earliest Franciscans. In 1209, Francis entered the town of Poggio Bustone with the greeting, “Good day, good people!” He and his band of followers moved toward the Holy Valley to escape the persecution and family tension facing him in Assisi. Following a winding path up a mountain, Francis sought prayerful solitude. There he received various miracles and blessings, and at a cave known as his Sacro Speco, he received a revelation about the future of his order. After the arduous hike up to the Sacro Speco, my little band had the privilege to celebrate Mass there and reflect upon the blessing St. Francis is to the Church.

Between Poggio Bustone and Rieti, tucked in the woods is the appropriately named Sanctuary La Foresta. In 1225, Francis sought respite there preparing for an eye surgery, many pilgrims came to meet with him, and they would snack on the grapes from the priest’s garden. Yet, Francis promised the poor priest that his garden would remain lush, which is true to this day. Some people also claim that St. Francis may have written or at least was inspired to write the Canticle of the Sun there. 

When I went on that pilgrimage, I knew I would learn much about St. Benedict on that Cammino. I was not expecting to visit so many important Franciscan sites. I came back from Italy with a deeper devotion to both Francis and Benedict. In retrospect, though, I should not have been surprised by this. While I appreciate the marvelous, and sometimes miraculous works and blessings, that God worked through and gave to St. Benedict, I have always been much more drawn to his prominent Christocentric focus in his Rule. I would now say the same of St. Francis. While we rightly talk about his poverty and simplicity, the miracles and stigmata, his recognition of God’s presence in creation, even more so I have become drawn to St. Francis’ deep love of and devotion to our Lord. Through St. Francis, we are invited to conform ourselves to Christ – Christ the Incarnate, Christ the crucified, Christ the humble, Christ the poor, Christ the revelation of God’s love, Christ the Divine. 

In our prayer and pondering of the crucifix, may we follow the example of St. Francis and his spiritual children gazing upon Christ, considering Christ, contemplating Christ, imitating Christ. 

Fr. Jeremy Heppler, O.S.B., has been a monk of St. Benedict’s Abbey since 2003 and currently serves as the pastor of St. Benedict’s Catholic Church in Atchison.