St. Francis of Assisi: the Incarnation and Greccio Christmas was simply dear to Francis. The Nativity of our Lord -- the theological doctrine of the Incarnation, the birth of Jesus to the Virgin Mary, when Christ, consubstantial Son of the Father, begotten not made before all creation, was born in Bethlehem in fulfillment of the Old Testament's Messianic prophecy. However, Francis did not reason in such theological or abstract dimensions. He was never a heady academic striving to intellectually or theologically grasp the divine mysteries. Instead, he sought to live them with his heart, spirit, and emotions.
For Francis, Christmas had to be real. Thus he celebrated the Nativity of the Child Jesus, in the words of Thomas of Celano, with “immense eagerness above all other solemnities, affirming it was the Feasts of Feasts, when God was made a little child and hung on human breasts. He would kiss the images of the baby’s limbs thinking of hunger, and the melting compassion of his heart toward the child also made him stammer sweet words as babies do” (Celano, Second Life: 151, 199).
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The month of January derives etymologically from the Roman god Janus. According to ancient mythology, he was a two-faced figure: one face looking backward, the other while the other looking forward. He stood at the threshold of doors or, in this case, at the beginning and end of the year. As our calendar marks the month of January, we, too, can look forward and backward and ask ourselves various questions.
On pilgrimages, we often take groups to the Catacombs of San Callisto. As we drive along the ancient road, the Via Appia Antica, leading up to the entrance just outside the old city walls, there sits a nondescript little church. Its name is unusual as it is a question: “Domine, Quo Vadis?”; Latin for “Lord, where are you going?” The end of year is a good time to reminisce about the year. As I look back on our third year in Loreto, I am reminded of Scripture: “I will praise you, LORD, with all my heart; I will declare all your wondrous deeds” (Psalms 9:1). As I reflect on the past twelve months, I have much to praise God and be grateful for.
I started writing about fifteen years ago, but it has only been in the past two in which my writing has begun to bear fruit. My new book on St. Clare was just released in July; thanks to the marketing people at TAN Books, the launch included a flurry of radio and print interviews. I wrote it as a follow-up companion book to my Francis biography, published a year earlier. Earlier this year, after a chance encounter with the guardian of San Damiano (who is also the director of Edizioni Porziunola), a Franciscan publishing house based in Assisi, they purchased the rights and Katia and I spent the beginning of the year translating it into Italian. It should be on the shelves in Italy in late winter/early spring. Lastly, sales in the English edition were good and a second print edition will be forthcoming (in paperback making it more economical). To those who have purchased my books, thank you. (And to those of you who have not, they are available on Amazon!) I even sent Pope Francis a copy of each book. Will he read them??? It’s now been one year since the horrible earthquake of 2016. I still remember the ordeal vividly.
It was early in the morning when I was awoken by a combination of strange sensations and noises: the bed was shaking; an abnormal, rumbling sound was coming from outside; car alarms were going off; neighbors were screaming. While I lay there disoriented and confused, my Italian wife, Katia, knew exactly what was happening: “Terremoto!” she shouted. It was an earthquake! After the house shook aggressively for ten to fifteen seconds, it started swaying for about the same amount of time. Finally, it stopped and everything became, once again, still. Eerily still. Katia and I immediately went downstairs and turned on our tablets hoping for some news. The quake was so violent where we lived, I was worried about the epicenter. Finally, news reports came in. It was bad. The first reports were that the magnitude was 6.2 and the epicenter was close to Perugia, about seventy miles from where we live in Loreto, city known throughout the world for the Holy House of Mary. There was tremendous loss of life and property, the news said. The most affected areas were the mountain villages along the border of the Umbria, Lazio and the Marches, our region. The damage was catastrophic and some towns were razed to the ground. It was August 24, 2016 when that first quake hit. Initially, the death toll was just two. But then it climbed to six, then ten, then twenty. Eventually, it reached 299 victims. Another 365 were injured, while approximately 2,100 people lost their homes. It was a true tragedy. "Go and rebuild my House, which, as you can see, is totally destroyed." These were the words Christ spoke to St. Francis through the crucifix of San Damiano. Francis knew what to do: rebuild the church.
Though those words were directed to St. Francis eight centuries ago, they could have been spoken to St. Benedict today. Yesterday, I went to the town of Norcia to visit the Benedictine monks whose church and monastery were destroyed in a series of earthquakes last year. On the night of August 24, 2016, a powerful 6.5-magnitude earthquake struck near Rieti in central Italy. It was a horrible tragedy: the towns of Accumuli, Pescara del Tronto, and especially Amatrice were destroyed. 299 people lost their lives, 365 were injured, and approximately 2,100 lost their homes. Here are some pictures I took yesterday while driving through the area: I spent four days last week in southern Italy with Gianna Jessen, abortion survivor and pro-life advocate. Though her story is remarkable, Gianna herself is all the more so.
I met her in Loreto last November when she gave a talk here at the Basilica of the Holy House of Mary. I introduced myself and, as a fellow American, we had some things in common. We exchanged contact information and after she returned home, began corresponding. After we got to know one another, I agreed to translate for future conferences. Thus I had the privilege of spending four days with her (and the two event organizers) in the region of Campania, near Naples, in southern Italy. Gianna started coming to Italy to speak in 2012. By now she has become something of a sensation. The three conferences I interpreted in Benevento and Caserta drew crowds between 500 and 600 people each. A conference she just did yesterday drew upwards of 1,500 people. Her story is moving Italians in a powerful way. |
Bret ThomanCatholic. Franciscan. Married. Father. Pilgrim guide. Writer. Translator. Pilot. Aspiring sailor. Archives
January 2023
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