An Assisian EnlightenmentSince reading Eco’s enigmatically entitled “The Name of the Rose” many years ago, I developed an unexpected fascination with medieval arcanity. The early 1300’s were a time of uproar within the Christian Church, rent by division, lost Crusader kingdoms and political posturing between the Holy Roman Empire, the Pope and uncertainties in France during the 100 Years War.
Within the Western Church there were further frictions as Franciscan monks (followers of Saint Francis) were at philosophical odds with the Benedictine monks that followed, yes, Saint Benedict.
St. Francis of Assisi is known to us as an especially saintly saint who preached kindliness to all creatures – a medieval advocate of the SPCA. This position is particularly attractive to modern peoples who understand that cruelty to animals predisposes cruelty to people. Therefore, it is beneficial to one’s Soul to demonstrate kindliness and humanity towards God’s fellow creatures by St. Francis’ example.
St. Francis was known for his practice of poverty believing that Salvation lay in dedicating oneself to spiritual devotion. Avoiding accumulation of material wealth was seen as unfulfilling and harmful to spiritual growth seeing as how harmful material gain could be to abused serfs, hired hands and others particularly in a feudal society.
St. Francis finds solidarity with Janists, Buddhists, Brahmins and other high priests of various religions that also preach austerity as a means to enlightenment and to the Ascension of the Soul in this life or the next.
As it did with St. Francis’ followers of the day, so today do St. Francis’ teachings find traction with modern people who discover that wealth does not buy happiness and as people look to assuage their guilt for their consumerist tendancies’ damage to the environment or to social impacts their purchasing decisions may place on their fellow man on a far off continent.
In “The Name of the Rose”, the Franciscan, personified by the sagacious William of Baskerville, clearly inspired by William of Occam (he of the Razor) debates theocratic principles against his rivals, the Benedictines who held that the church should accumulate as much material wealth as possible, so better to honour God. By building magnificent edifices to God, wealthy merchants, soldiers and kings of the day assuaged their guilt for murder, enslavement and plunder and received forgiveness. Even impoverished peasants and serfs gave what little they could in order that they might be delivered from their misery in this life for a heavenly existence in the next. Indeed, has anything changed?
As I drove past the beautiful Lake Trasimene, the site of one of Hannibal’s greatest victories (farmers still plow up battle remains) I reflected on the proximity of an area of such profound peace being so close to an area of such profound slaughter. I imagined St. Francis’ Assisi to be a humble but proper cathedral, set in an Umbrian mountainside suitably quiet and serene to honour his legacy, beliefs and teachings. I imagined this humble cathedral perched on a rocky premonitory, populated by singing birds and surrounded by cooling green forest. “Yes, that would be very suitable”, I thought.
Driving past Trasimene and gaining altitude, I could see in the distance, plastered against a hillside, a bright brown splotch contrasting against a green mountain backdrop.
“I guess that’s Assisi”, I said as we drew nearer realizing that in these densely populated valleys of Umbria, it would not be unreasonable for there to be a town called Assisi since, after all, there would have been an Assisi in St. Francis’ time 800 years ago otherwise what would he be named after?
Driving the steep, congested switchback road up the mountainside, I passed many full parking lots as well as parking lots stuffed full with dozens of buses. This was a destination for the religious community that was not initially apparent to those of us of the secular world. “Religious tourism and religious tourists”, I thought. “Makes sense. See Rome and Assisi in Italy, overnight bus to Lourdes in the French Pyrenees, overnight bus to San Francisco de Campostello in northwest Spain all in one week. Arrive Rome. Depart Madrid and back to Montreal or New York or Mexico City or San Paolo.”
So now we realized that Assisi is actually a large place with thousands of religious tourists visiting every day with the odd history buff/guilt assuager like myself, thrown in. I scolded myself for being so naïve about my visit expectations. Continuing our drive, I could see many cathedral towers, all presumably dedicated to the Franciscan order. We could see nuns and priests in abundance but no impoverished monks. We could see impoverished beggars at cathedral gates appealing for alms to the pious entering and exiting the cathedrals in herds but still no impoverished monks.
Finally, we reached the top of the hillside and parked. We descended on foot down spotless, cobble stoned streets surmounted by stone buildings on either side with their typical green shutters and red geranium planters. These buildings were mostly comfortable private residences which later gave way to a myriad of small shops. Shops selling Umbrian specialty foods like strong pecorino cheeses, pungent sausages, preserved truffles and a plethora of local wines and spirits; others sold the usual T-shirts and post cards and guidebooks to Assisi; there were gelato stands and pizza restaurants, fine four star hotels and restaurants. All shops would devote some shelf space to religious paraphernalia like crosses, rosaries and bibles in deference to the tastes of the tourist community. There was even a shop selling fossilized fish, plants and seashells along with abundant statues and photographs of Benedict XVI and Jesus Christ whose outstretched arms seemed to bless and forgive those for the apparent heresy of purchasing items that defied the Theory of Creation.
In addition to images of Jesus and the Pope, there were images of cathedrals with “Assisi, Italia” written on them. But there were few, if any, images of St. Francis himself, unkempt in hair and beard in his humble, tattered and threadbare cloak.
Dodging through the heavy crowds of pilgrims through the narrow streets, I emerged into a square with a number of great cathedrals all proclaiming references to the Franciscan order. Entering one of these cathedrals, I sidestepped a number of pilgrims falling to their knees and crossing themselves, still to this day impressed by the rich, opulent, imposing and humiliating atmosphere produced by the somber and solemn liturgical architecture. Looking around, I could not see any reference to the remains of poor old St. Francis in this cathedral although there were many other dead saints who I apparently could adore should I wish to drop €0.50 in a nearby box.
Evidently St. Francis was not in this cathedral. But the thought of paying money to salve my soul in my wish to honour St. Francis’ poverty seemed heretical to me and a disservice to him. Perhaps the best way to honour his spirit would be not to spend another cent in this godless town and leave the place as speedily as possible. And that is what we did the €4 for parking notwithstanding but I’m sure even St. Francis has to pay someone to board his horse.
As I reflected upon the dazzling display of wealth concentrated in the cathedrals dedicated to St. Francis, the thousands of tourists buying iconic souvenirs, restaurant meals and luxury hotel rooms and the unrealistic newness and freshness of Assisi I recalled that the entire city had been destroyed by an earthquake in 1995. But so important a commercial enterprise was Assisi that it was completely rebuilt within 2 years. Many smaller villages in the outlying regions took 5 years or more to rebuild or were abandoned altogether.
Disillusioned and frustrated, I wondered if St. Francis had not appealed to God to destroy Assisi given what it had become and how it perverted his name and his teachings. How St. Francis must be gasping in horror at what has replaced his city in his name. How St. Benedict must be laughing and sneering on the sidelines.
And what of the ignorance of the masses, so blind in their faith that they cannot see the truth in what St. Francis preached and lived and of its relevance to the modern world.
The Truth is meant only for some of us to see.
