[Sacred Spaces]
k. schouten
Sacred places inspire the recollection of holy persons - not necessarily as defined in thraditionally religious terms, but persons with whom interaction is holy, sacred, an experience that can only be explained by a touch of the divine. These are the persons whom we are truly blessed to know; no other description will do.
Sitting on a logwood pew on the grounds St. Francis inhabited, outside of Assisi, I look out at the forested hillside. A stonewall borders the lower right periphery of my view, trees glistening in the sun comprise the upper right, and clear blue sky fills the space between. Various persons enter my mind; I want to share the quiet and profound sanctity of this place with them all.
I begin to think of the value of pilgrimage, of taking a journey, laboring to reach someplace holy. Growing up I read of saints in storybooks, saw several sculpted into our church's walls, and really never conceived of them as anything more than characters. They were the stuff of myths and legends; they were not actual people. Perhaps we may never truly understand how great the span of humanity is; we certainly have a difficult time comprehending the reality of remarkable persons who lived hundreds of year ago.
Yet, today we hiked for over an hour, up an intense but gorgeous path, overlooking the fertile valley below, rummaged through an olive grove, and finally reached the Eremo delle Carceri. Housing the Grotto di San Francesco, the Eremo is respectfully built into the side of Monte Subasio. We walked through the very doors and chambers in which Francis Bernardone lived, prayed, and worked. We walked along the paths he walked, hiked the trails he hiked, and saw the alters at which he worshipped. We felt the sun's warmth in the same place he did and braced the same biting wind. St. Francis was a man. He lived in this world. He is not merely a painting on the wall or a figure in a storybook.
I often rail on the constant use of the word amazing' to describe travel, but this particular experience was amazing. Such a place, embedded with such obvious and simple holiness, inspires. It inspires reflection, it inspires religion, it inspires the spirit of a being to live with heart and earnest devotion in whatever forms that devotion takes. Pilgrimage seems to play, or would play, a significant role in one's religion, as it cultivates a distinctive immediacy and actuality. Actual human beings have been inspired and lived their lives in these ways. Pilgrimage is not about convincing; it is not about persuasion. It is about presenting persons of theology as more than actors, more than figures in a storybook, and in so doing, inspiring the pilgrim to reflect on the divinities in her life, the varying roles they play. I am inspired to go deeper and live in this world. I am inspired by the grace of this afternoon.
