This is our last day in Assisi so this will also probably be the last long post. Today we seek two destinations: Gubbio and La Verna. Both sights I have greatly looked forward to.
Gubbio is where St. Francis tamed a wild wolf ravaging a town. It’s a story of peace, one of my favorite themes. Legend tells us that a wolf, “rabid with hunger,” was terrorizing Gubbio, eating livestock, hurting and devouring people. Several times, brave villagers or armed soldiers went to hunt the wolf. Each time, they came back unsuccessful and injured. The villagers are terrorized, afraid to venture out of town for fear of the large wolf. One day, St. Francis comes to Gubbio and hears of this ferocious wolf. Ignoring insistent warnings and pleas because the town was afraid for Francis’ life, he seeks to find and confront the wolf. As the wolf races towards St. Francis he makes the sign of the cross. The wolf slows and closes his mouth. St. Francis said to the beast, “Come to me Brother Wolf. In the name of Jesus Christ, I order you not to hurt me or anyone.” The story from the “The Little Flowers of St. Francis” goes on to say, “It is marvelous to relate that as soon as he had made the Sign of the Cross, the wolf closed its terrible jaws and stopped running, and as soon as he gave it that order, it lowered its head and lay down at the Saint’s feet, as though it had become a lamb.” Francis went on to tell the wolf that the village is frightened of him. Francis admonished the wolf for harming God’s creatures especially humans made in the image of God. The wolf showed contrition; whereby, Francis described a truce. The village will feed the wolf; while, the wolf would be allowed to live within the walls of the town as long as the wolf would never again harm any of God’s creatures. As Francis reached out his hand to seal this pact, the wolf raised a paw placing it in Francis’ hand. When Francis returned to the village with the wolf walking humbly by his side, Francis proclaimed the gospel of Christ. The town agrees to the terms, and the wolf lives two more years within the walls of the village. It’s a story of peace, reconciliation, and forgiveness in Christ.

As we arrive near Gubbio, our first destination is La Vittorina, the church built on the site, outside of town, where Francis first encountered and tamed the wolf. When it comes to peace, do we have to leave the safety of our constructed walls and venture out? Usually the comfort we have “in our walls” is peace only for us. As we are here, Amber and I enjoy this modest church and the statues around of Francis and the wolf. Early Franciscans lived here, even in Francis’ life as they ministered and served a local leper community.
Next, Amber and I visit San Francesco Della Pace in Gubbio. This church was built on the site where the wolf, after a day out in the forest, would retreat back into town and spend the night, cared for by the villagers. In fact, inside this church is the wolf’s tomb. If that seems hard to believe, in 1872-73, excavations discovered the skeleton of a wolf here. Yes, the story seems difficult to believe, but it does coincide with St. Francis’ life and mission, to preach God’s love, peace, and forgiveness to all.
However, for Amber and I, our visit to San Francesco Della Pace was not successful. When we arrived, the door was locked. We discovered a phone number, called and the gentleman on the other end said the church would be closed until the weekend or for appointment only. Thus, we were locked out of this site of peace and reconciliation in Jesus. Is that how it often goes for us desiring peace? We get close, but get locked out. Does real peace actually require too much from us or at least more than we are willing to give? It requires contrition, forgiveness, even to enemies or people seemingly terrorizing us. Peace requires, listening, hearing each other and potentially discovering our wrongs and sins. Peace requires giving from all involved and it requires discovering and living the way of Christ. Is this too much? We often fight over provisions, security, affections, and safety. In Isaiah 11, the prophet describes a time when the “wolf and the lamb” will live together. In this story, the wolf becomes like a lamb at the name of Jesus Christ. Can Jesus tame the wolf inside of us, in our world? Jesus came to bring the peaceable kingdom? I hope we don’t continually lock ourselves out from this peace.

After leaving Gubbio, Amber and I drive another 45 minutes to La Verna, the mountain of the stigmata. Yes, here is the sight where St. Francis receives the wounds of Christ in his hands, feet, and side. We intentionally get here for a late lunch. The site actually is within the borders of an Italian national park, and just at the gate is a restaurant with delightful pasta. We arrive for a tasty and relaxing lunch. Amber is good at researching these sites as I often would just show up. She discovers that on the day we arrive, the monastic community living here and all on retreat or visiting can join in a 3:00 pm service with processional to the Chapel of the Stigmata. We arrive a bit early and enjoy the view as again all St. Francis sites seem to rest high on mountains. Then we explore this main cathedral, and the relics of his life, like one of the robes Francis wore. When 3:00 arrives, the service with processional is moving. Even as everything is in another language, the songs and processional of 75 people to the Chapel of the Stigmata feels reverent and holy. This was both a surprise and blessing! The small chapel was packed. We could only stand outside looking in. As the processional left and returned to the main sanctuary, we briefly get our first glimpse of the sight of the stigmata. In this first glimpse, I am not even sure what I am seeing. We just walk through the room. We must come back on our own time. After the procession returns to the main sanctuary, and the service ends, we discover the Chapel of the Stigmata is closed. A retreat of nuns is inside worshipping. However, there is much to see here so we explore.
Walking down a hall with murals of Francis’ life, we discover what seems like a mysterious, secretive door. Amber shares how this door leads to a place where Francis retreated to pray, another cave and uncomfortable rocks. However, the door is closed. Everyone is just passing right by. We are in a monastery, people all around. Do you open a closed door? Maybe, Amber is the brave one. She tries and it opens into a beautiful ravine courtyard. We quickly close the door behind us to “not get caught.” All of a sudden, we are alone. It’s quiet. We walk down stone steps to another retreat cave of Francis. It feels like an oasis, peaceful. After finished, we return to the mysterious, secretive door. I hope to exit as quickly as we entered so that again no one sees. Mission accomplished. The spot is open to the public, just no visitor seems to know. As I watch others pass right by, should I spread the news? I did not. Why do we keep good news, good things like God and Jesus to ourselves?

Next, as the Chapel of the Stigmata is still closed, Amber and I head down more stone steps to another place of prayer for Francis. This one retreats down the mountain a bit to a “Projecting Rock.” Under this rock, Francis would spend time in prayer sheltered from the elements. As we walk back up the stairs, I hear Amber mumble something. “What did you say?” I ask her. “I hate steps,” she responds. Again Francis seemed to always retreat in the most inconvenient of places. Yes, they were beautiful sites, caves, rocks, cliffs, and all of them involving elevation gain or loss. We were always climbing, and as we were climbing again, Amber was tired of all the steps. We finish this set of stairs, walk forward a bit to another set of stairs that will take us back to the main sanctuary. As we climb, I hear Amber again. “I hate steps.”

The Chapel of the Stigmata is still closed. Therefore, I read Amber the story of Francis and the Stigmata from the “Little Flowers of St. Francis.” Here, St. Francis prayed for two things. First, he wanted to feel and know the full suffering of Jesus on the cross. Second, he prayed to know the fullness and depth of Jesus’ love for the world. He prayed for these two things over and over again. Francis’ entire life after his conversion is one of walking with Jesus through his suffering love and mission for the world. As Jesus continually emptied himself so did St. Francis. Here, as he was praying to know both the full suffering of Jesus and the intensity of his love, a Seraph appeared before him. In that Seraph was an image of Jesus on the cross. Through this vision, the wounds of Christ were imparted upon Francis’ body. Francis told the few brothers there to keep these wounds a secret until after his death.

Like Francis I would love to glimpse, experience for even just a moment, the depth and intensity of God’s love in Jesus. God is love and to know and be overwhelmed by the greatness of that love would definitely be an answered prayer. Could I contain such a love within me? No, such a love must be shared as it would overwhelm and overflow out of us; while also filling
us with joy and purpose. It’s a love for everyone as God sees them. However, unlike Francis, I am not sure I want to know the fullness of Jesus’ suffering, to experience his pain, rejection, abandonment. Jesus knew loneliness and betrayal. This may be too much for me. But here lies the problem. I am convinced that you cannot grasp the extreme love of God without also experiencing Jesus’ suffering. This may be why love is so hard in Christianity. In Christ, suffering and love are intertwined together. I am not sure I am willing to suffer so that I can more fully love. I guess that is my limit. Maybe that is why the church does not represent Jesus as well as St. Francis did. Few of us are willing to suffer in the name of God’s love. Few of us are willing to be “imprinted” with the cross.

Finally, the chapel is open. Amber and I enter. In the center of the chapel is a glass spot on the floor over the sight where Francis prayed and received the stigmata. I kneel and pray. “I do want to know your love more. Give me the courage to suffer in the name of your love.” The cross is the way to salvation. There is no other way. May we as Christians be marked by the cross and love of Jesus.

There is one last God moment today. Twenty four years ago, when I visited Assisi, I bought a painting. It hangs in our living room. It’s a beautiful painting by a local Assisi artist of St. Francis’ call to rebuild the church as it is in ruins. The first day we were here, I told Amber I would love to find more work from this artist. We looked him up on the internet. We walked to where the shop was according to my foggy memory. Through it all, no luck. Tonight, we walk back up to the town square for dinner. As we walk up the hill, I hear Amber grumble, “I hate hills” echoing her sentiment of stairs from earlier today. In the town square, we walk by a window in a strange corner, high above normal sight line. Displayed in this window is my painting. I don’t know how we missed it before as we walked by this window probably every night. There it is. I walk over. Around the corner is a sign, “Gallery open.” This is not just a gallery. The artist, he lives here. We enter, and a humble, kind, gentle man about 10 years older than me greets us. He takes us through his gallery. The painting that catches my eye, Francis and the Stigmata. I show him the picture of his painting on my wall at home. I buy two more Francis prints, The Stigmata and Francis giving his cloak to a begger. Alberto, the artist, wrapped them and packaged them for travel home. As if it just occurs to him, he says to me in broken english, “A gift for you.” He walks across the room, picks up one of his paintings of St. Clare and packages it like the other two paintings. I am stunned. I can’t believe that not only did we find the artist, but we met him in his home studio.

This past 6 nights in Assisi and the surrounding area were amazing. I could not have asked for anything more. The first night here, I was overwhelmed. This seemed like an unreal trip, a possible highlight of my life being here with Amber. Now that this part of the trip is concluding. It truly will be an unforgettable week. God is good! I do hope to grow closer to this God and his love, compassion, and mercy for our world. As St. Francis often said, “Peace and All Good.”