What would your father do if you talked to birds?

I’m told that, at CIL, each month contains at least one pilgrimage to a holy site in Italy. February’s pilgrimage has been planned for Assisi. I was excited to hear this as I had been in Assisi almost 30 years ago for a very brief visit (half a day). It was too short a time and so I wanted to take in everything that I had missed the first time (my feet would come to disagree with this strategy). The trip from Rome is a little over two hours and I found myself glad that my sister had given me an IPOD for Christmas. That, and catching up on back issues of The New Yorker, caused the trip to speed by. Our first stop, upon arriving in Assisi, was the Porziuncula, aka Santa Maria degli Angeli. It was given to Saint Francis on the condition that it be made the Motherhouse of the Franciscan Order. Apparently he loved the place because he kept returning to it – even at the time of his death. It’s a tiny chapel surrounded (literally) by the mother of all Basilicas – but even with a massive church overwhelming it, upon entering the space, one is immediately overwhelmed by its sacredness. From there, the bus climbed the hill to the plateau on which the ancient town of Assisi lies. Our first stop was San Damiano – the church which, in a vision, Christ told Saint Francis to rebuild – thus launching his life as a Founder of a religious order. From there we climbed the hill to the center of town – where, it appears there are more churches (including THREE Benedictine monasteries) than one can possibly visit in a day. Bob Schaefer and I focused our attention on the Church of Saint Clare (where she is buried), the town’s Cathedral, the Church of Saint Mary Major (the old Cathedral) – which we never found – and, of course, the Basilica of Saint Francis (I prayed for all of you at every one – so look sharp - God is coming!). Other than the fact that Italians love to wax things (Pope John XXIII, Saint Clare, for example), the pilgrimage was an amazing experience of encountering the sacred in every day life. I remembered from my last trip that the Franciscans are VERY serious about making sure visitors respect the churches by remaining silent (there is one particularly annoying friar in the lower church of the Basilica) – which made the experience of visiting the tomb of Francis especially profound. Eight of us joined up for lunch (which was a welcome respite from a VERY rainy day) and happened across a marvelous trattoria in an alley where we were served three wonderful courses. By four pm we were all ready to get back on the bus and return to the Motherhouse – soggy but very excited about a prayerful journey.

* The front facade of the Porziuncula - you can see the shape of the Basilica surrounding it.

** The cell in the basement of the house where Francis' father locked him up (I think it was over the talking to birds thing)