The lifting high of the San Damiano crucifix

Some weeks ago I shared with the happy and unexpected news that the San Damiano crucifix, the one that spoke to Saint Francis of Assisi, would be returned - briefly - to the church of San Damiano just outside of Assisi where it was during Saint Francis' life. Not wanting to miss the opportunity to pray before this holy crucifix in its original location where the Lord Jesus used it to effect a spiritual renewal in the Church, I made a little pilgrimage yesterday to Assisi with Father Jeffrey Keyes, a priest of the diocese of Santa Rosa who blogs at Omnia Christus est Nobis.

We went up to my favorite city yesterday because I either misremembered the date of the crucifix's transfer or because I had my days confused. Whichever it was, we arrived at the church of San Damiano one hour before the scheduled arrival of the crucifix.

When we realized this, I asked Father Keyes if he wanted to stay for the arrival or head into the city and return this afternoon. Having grown quite of pushy and noisy crowds, I hoped he preferred the latter, but he wanted to stay and I'm glad we did.

This crowd in the City of Peace was not at all like the Roman crowds I am now used to. There was pushing. There was no surging. There was no shouting or yelling. Everyone was friendly, in good spirits, and even offered to let other people approach the barricades surrounding the narrow entrance to the church to take a photograph of the proceedings. The small crowd of about seventy people was simply a delight to part of and was a good reminder of why I love Assisi.

PHOTO: Jeffrey Keyes

It seems news of the transfer of the San Damiano crucifix did not spread very far at all, even among the Assisians. One of the shopkeepers I spoke with said he only learned of the transfer yesterday morning as he walked through the piazza of Santa Chiara. He saw the city police, the military police, and people in hazmat suits. Fearing some tragedy he asked what happened and then learned of the transfer.

At any rate, we waited outside the church of San Damiano for about forty-five minutes. The weather was most pleasant, about 76 degrees, under a partly cloudy sky and a welcome relief from the stifling heat and humidity of Rome. The scent of wild flowers and freshly cut grass filled the air and a gentle breeze was frequently felt on our faces.

When at last the white van arrived transporting the San Damiano crucifix a great but calm excitement was felt among the crowd, not least of all because we could not quite figure how or where the van would park to unload its treasure.

In the end, it turned round and backed up toward the door of the church, parking in the division of the crowd so that most of the crowd could no longer see anything:

Not unexpectedly, many of us in the crowd began shifting positions. Whereas we had been standing just one or two deep along the barriers, we began to stand four and five deep, but closer to the entrance of the church. Still, there was minimal pushing and no shouting and it all seemed to be done in rather a civilized fashion. I found a nice step to stand on to improve my view as the crate containing the San Damiano crucifix was slowly and carefully removed from the van and carried into the church:

Why did I spend all that time trying to learn Italian?

Once the crate was inside the church, the small crowd began readjusting itself again, as some took up positions directly behind the van but facing the door of the church. I followed the lead of an Italian scout leader and an Italian nun and climbed up inside the van, but then the workmen returned and politely asked us to step out of the van so they could remove a few pieces of lumber. It was a good plan we had, at least.

Despite the narrow opening for photographs, we shifted from side to side to allow each other to get a few photographs of the crate lying on the floor of the church as the lid was removed and the friars gazed closely at the details of the image:

PHOTO: Jeffrey Keyes

Even some of the Poor Clares were present for the transfer of the crucifix before which Saint Clare prayed so frequently and fervently:

PHOTO: Jeffrey Keyes

After the friars and nuns finished looking upon the crucifix, the workmen began the process of lifting the crucifix into the brackets already mounted on the archway above the altar (I would have closed the doors to the church for this part of the day) and it was at this point that I watched the process unfold on an American woman's cell phone:

Father Keyes, however, was in a good position to see the installation of the crucifix, a process which must have filled the workmen with some trepidation:

PHOTO: Jeffrey Keyes

Once the workmen were confident the crucifix was secure in its new-old location, they began taking down the scaffold:

Since it was at this point a little after 1:00 p.m., Father Keyes and I decided to make our way to our favorite pizzeria, the Pizzeria Monaci, the best in Italy (their pizzas, in my mind, rank just after Chicago-style deep dish pizzas).

We then stopped by the tomb of Saint Francis which I picked up a few candles and touched them to his grave. Afterwards we stopped by a ceramics shop where I ordered a set of plates and bowls with a color combination that matches that of my coat of arms:

We then stopped by a couple of my favorite shops in Assisi and then returned to San Damiano for a good bit of time in prayer before returning to Rome. We found the small church already filling up at 4:30 p.m. for the 6:30 p.m. Mass. At one point, a good number of elderly Italian women arrived together, but the pews were all filled. I gave my spot to one of the women and found a nice spot on the floor:

When it was time for us to catch our train, we left the church, but not before taking a couple additional photographs from the entrance:

Though I had planned to arrive in Assisi the day after the transfer of the crucifix, I am very happy that arrived on the day of the transfer. It was a great and enjoyable grace to be part of that historic day.

The San Damiano crucifix will remain in the church of San Damiano through Sunday evening and will be returned to Santa Chiara on, I believe, Monday morning.

San Damiano crucifix to return briefly to the church of San Damiano

In the year 1205, Saint Francis of Assisi entered the church of San Damiano just outside his hometown to pray. Thomas of Celano, the Seraphic Father's biography, relates the pivotal event for us:

Touched by an unusual grace, he discovered that he was different than he had been when he had entered. Even though its lips were only painted, the image of Christ crucified spoke to this man who had been moved in this way - something unheard of over the centuries - and called him by name, "Francis," it said to him, "go and repair my house which, as you can see, is in ruins." The trembling young man was dumbfounded and felt faint, but he was immediately prepared to obey and everything became focused on that order (Second Life, I.VI.10).

Ever since that day, the San Damiano crucifix has been treasured by the Franciscan family and all those who seek to imitate Francis' love of the Crucified Love.

The miraculous image remained in the church of San Damiano for sometime until it was moved inside the Basilica of St. Clare inside the city walls, somewhere between 1257 and 1260, where it has remained until this very day. Next month, however, the San Damiano crucifix will return to the church for it was named for a few days' time:

Assisi, June 15-19, 2016, the Crucifix of San Damiano returns to the place where it spoke to Francis of Assisi.

In this Holy year, Pope Francisco invites everyone to join “in the great mystery of God’s mercy, contemplating the face of Christ.”

To respond to this appeal, the community of Friars Minor of San Damiano and the Poor Clares of proto-monastery of St. Clare, with the patronage of the Diocese of Assisi-Nocera Umbra-Gualdo Tadino and the municipality of Assisi, have desired to return the Crucifix of San Damiano, after almost eight centuries, to its original location.

It should be remembered that the face of Christ displayed in the San Damiano crucifix is the same face as that found on the Veil of Manoppello. 

Likewise, if you missed my post exploring the centrality of the Veil of Manoppello with the history (and origin) of the jubilee, be sure to give it a read.

Homily on the Conversion of Saint Francis of Assisi - 3 October 2014

After returning to Rome yesterday morning, I made my way to back to Assisi to celebrate the Holy Mass this morning and tomorrow morning for a group of American college students who have come on pilgrimage with the Franciscan Sisters of the Eucharist to celebrate the Feast of Saint Francis of Assisi. 

Here is the homily on Saint Francis' conversion that I preached for them this morning:

Mass with Pilgrims from the U.S.A.

On the Conversion of Saint Francis of Assisi

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ,

May the Lord give you peace! There is to be found – to be heard – in this hallowed “city set on a hill” a voice that stirs deep within the soul (Matthew 5:14). It is as if this voice asks each one who hears it, “Have you ever in your lifetime commanded the morning and shown the dawn its place” (Job 38:1)? This voice speaks to us – ultimately – of our mortality and of our powerlessness over the forces of nature, yes, but also – and more importantly – over our very lives.

When first we begin to detect this voice, we might be tempted to think it comes from the ancient stones that make up these narrow and charming streets or that build up the walls that surround us. At first, we think this notion absurd. “Stones cannot speak,” we say. And yet, still a voice calls out, “Which is the way to the dwelling place of light, and where is the abode of darkness” (Job 38:19)?

These stones, after all, have witnessed the passing of thousands of lives of men, and yet still they remain, though the men do not. Walking through this city of peace, we become ever more aware that these stones, that Assisi itself, remains solely as a tomb, as a tomb for a diminutive man who died 787 years ago this very night. These stones stand as a silent witness to the truth of the words so often spoken by the man they entomb: “What a man is in the eyes of God, that he is and nothing more.”

We walk upon and among the stones of this city not as tourists, but as pilgrims. Tourists travel the world simply to look at something for a brief moment, snap a picture, and then head off to the next place on the list. Tourists look upon a thing or a place, but their never enter in.

Pilgrims, on the other hand, travel with a much deeper purpose. They look upon things and places, yes. They take pictures here and there to jog their fading memories in later years, yes. But unlike tourists, pilgrims seek to enter into the place they visit, to meet its people, to live something of its history, to allow the place to touch and move their hearts.

Unlike tourists who simply take a break from their everyday life to see the world, pilgrims recognize that

Each one of us is on an ongoing journey: it is the nature of man to journey part of the road, that of his own existence. However, this journey may be that of a wanderer or a pilgrim. Our times are full of people who wander because they are deprived of an ideal of life and are often unable to make sense of the vicissitudes of the world.[1]

This journeying is part of what it is to be human. However, if we are to journey, we must have a destination in mind. A tourist has no ultimate destination in mind, but a pilgrim sets out always to encounter the Lord, to look upon his face and to be blessed by him.

You have come to Assisi to walk where Saint Francis walked, to pray where he prayed, to see what he saw. As you seek to follow after the little man poor man, your spiritual task is to hear him echo to you these words of Saint Paul: “Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ” (I Corinthians 11:1).

When he was in his early twenties – about the age you are now – Francis, so his early companions tell us, “was always happy and generous, dedicated to play and song, roaming through the town of Assisi day and night with friends like him, spend-thrifts, dissipating all that they could have or earn on lunches and other things.”[2] Though the young men of his day called him the “king of feasts,” his was not the drunken revelry of our day; “even among wanton youths,” Saint Bonaventure tells us, “he did not give himself over to the flesh, although he indulged himself in pleasures.”[3] Francis’ was the constant delight of singing and dancing and music and food and companionship.[4] It was, I suppose, something akin to the life of J.R.R. Tolkien’s hobbits.

To us, such a life seems simple and enjoyable; it seems what we might call the good life, a life to be sought and enjoyed. Yet Francis, thinking back to these early years on his deathbed, described them as, “while I was in sin,” a curious phrase for a period marked by generosity and friendship.[5] What made this period so sinful?

By his natural temperament, Francis was of a “feverish impulse” and “did not know moderation.”[6] Not only this, he was “flighty and not just a little daring.”[7] In this, I suspect, he was not too unlike each of us. These characteristics kept him, in these early years, focused in on himself and on his own pleasures and kept him not fully open to others and to the Lord. His chief desires were for pleasure and knightly glory. In this, Francis was not unlike the men of his day.

When he visited Assisi several years ago, His Holiness Benedict XVI reflected on the eight hundredth anniversary of the conversion of Saint Francis, which did not so much happen all at once but in several steps. He said:

It is interesting to notice how the Lord took Francis in his stride, that of wanting to affirm himself, in order to indicate to him the path of a holy ambition focused on the Infinite: "Who can be more useful to you, the master or the servant?" (LTC 2, 6), was the question that he heard resound in his heart. It was as if to say: why be content to be dependent on men when there is a God ready to welcome you into his house, into his royal service?[8]

In this call to serve the Divine Master, Francis recognized the satisfaction of every longing of his heart.

So it was that, after his encounter with the leper, he gave himself entirely into his service. Aided by his natural “feverish impulse” and his “daring” in that moment of overflowing love, he let loose the floodgates of his heart and held nothing back for himself. In that very moment, when he forgot himself whom he so often remembered before, everything changed and he found – and was possessed by – the joy he earlier sought in parties, music, and friends.

In a word, we might say that Francis realized that God alone is enough, that God alone is all we need and all we truly desire. This realization is the moment of his conversion. This realization led him to orient his life outward and away from himself, to orient his life – as Pope Francis would say – to the peripheries. These eight hundred years later his realization remains fresh and intriguing.

The life of Saint Francis attracts so many people because, in the depths of our hearts, we know his realization to be true and we want to reorient our lives as he did, even if we lack the courage – or the feverish impulse and daring – to do that same. Let us, then, this day ask Saint Francis to help us understand the beauty and truth of his life and to make his words our own:

Therefore let us desire nothing else, let us wish for nothing else, let nothing else please us and cause us delight except our Creator and Redeemer and Savior, the one true God, who is the Fullness of Good, all good, every good, the true and supreme Good, Who alone is Good, merciful and gentle, delectable and sweet.[9]

Amen.

---

[1] Archbishop Salvatore Fisichella, Address to the Equestrian Order of the Holy Sepulchre of Jerusalem, 13 September 2013. In Annales 2014: Ordinis Equestris Sactic Sepulchri Hiersoloymitani, 18.

[2] Legend of the Three Companions, 1.2.

[3] Saint Bonaventure, The Life of St. Francis, 1.1.

[4] Tomaso di Celano, Second Life, I.3.7.

[5] Saint Francis of Assisi, The Testament, 1.

[6] Tomaso di Celano, First Life, 2.3.

[7] Tomaso di Celano, First Life, 2.4.     

[8] Pope Benedict XVI, Meeting with Youth, 17 June 2007.

[9] Saint Francis of Assisi, The Earlier Rule, XXIII.9.