More compost ... nice to say, but I don't really like it.

I am definitely a Dominican at heart. If I had gotten my license years before, and if I hadn’t been so terrified of driving, I would have driven the two hours from my house to Washington, DC where the only local chapter of third-order Dominicans was located. St. Rose of Lima was one of my first favorite saints ever, and in my maturity I love to read the Summa Theologica and anything by St. Thomas Aquinas, I consider him genius.

When it comes to other saints, of course I love them as my friends and brothers and sisters and whatnot, but I’ve always felt more of a particular kind of kinship amongst Dominicans – it seems we think similarly.

One thing I’ve often noticed – and my confirmation sponsor, a priest, affirmed this – many people (children and adults) like St. Francis “because he’s the patron saint of animals.” Oh that’s deep.

Granted, I’m sure there are those who have a better connection with St. Frank than this, but among Franciscans – especially lay persons acting in the “Franciscan spirit” – there seems to be what a former teacher of mine would call “a lot of new age woo-woo.” I noticed some of this when our class visited Assisi this weekend. We had just come from Florence, and I was a Very Happy Lauren after I spent a morning at the convent of San Marco, admiring the very sweet, very beautiful, very Dominican paintings of Blessed Fra Angelico. Each reflected a very deep insight through Dominican-colored glasses; they were not without a sort of mysticism as many paintings of biblical events included modern people such as St. Dominic, St. Thomas Aquinas, St. Peter Martyr, et cetera: this reflects the mystical view of time, specifically that God is timeless, as are events like the crucifixion.

When we came to Assisi, I saw many modern works of art devoted to St. Francis and his followers. All of them seemed to reflect his love of nature.

That’s nice. What about his love of God?

Yes, he preached to the birds blahblahblah, but what about … other things? I admit the main cathedral with the Giotto paintings was much better about this, but that doesn’t count, as that’s not as modern as I mean. There was one image of St. Francis with his arms out, surrounded by what looked like a sunburst, with the star of David, the crescent moon and star of the Muslims, a cross, something that looked like an astrological symbol, and a sun. After thinking about it a bit, I came to the conclusion that the message must be ecumenism, but at first it seemed to be an equation of these things … or … something. Either way, it’s not something St. Francis would have been really concerned about back in his day – ecumenism is a fairly modern thing which gets many over-conservative traditionalists upset.

That’s not really entirely fair I admit, but I think it does something to point out my preference for the more concrete and analytical Dominican spirituality.

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with Franciscans as a whole, and I love my Franciscan brothers and sisters. I had to keep reminding myself of this as I saw such abominable works of modern art throughout Assisi that really reminded me of Our Lady of Concrete-type parishes back in the United States (a further example, in Santa Croce, there was a side chapel whose main work of art was … a tree-trunk).

I did like the whole idea of St. Francis calling his body “brother ass”, because he treated it badly, like an ass. This was the only thing of which I could think when climbing the 3k hill to his hermitage in the heat of midafternoon – keeping myself going felt very much like beating a stubborn donkey. And that gave me an idea – I’m always rather critical of the Franciscans, I figured I ought to spend this day walking in their footsteps – what more appropriate place than Assisi.

When I arrived at the Hermitage, I found that we were not, in fact, able to have Sunday Mass in the chapel, but that we were compelled to have it outside. I found this rather annoying, but I tried to think like a Franciscan. Okay, I told myself, we must be too big a group to have it indoors… legitimate enough reason to have it outdoors, in God’s creation. I believe St. Francis said that his monastery was all of God’s creation. Therefore we’ll be having Mass in St. Francis’ monastery.

This is what I told myself to cover my annoyance that I was sitting on a tree-trunk and kneeling in the gravel.

But, I realize, Mass has, in times of necessity, been held in much more humble places. Indeed, our Savior was born in a foul-smelling stable. Of what do I have to complain?

After Mass, I wandered off alone. I wanted to think and just be by myself as I often am, but it wasn’t long before I was joined by one of my classmates in what I learned was a very great act of compassion. And so, discussing Theology of the Body and Natural Family Planning, we climbed the steep, rocky and overgrown mountain of Assisi together. Physically more demanding than the hike up the paved road to the hermitage, I don’t think I would have done it alone. Then I realized that St. Francis’ rule called for a monastic community, for one cannot practice virtue (especially humility and obedience) totally alone. And I realized that the climb up the mountain was not only physically edifying, but spiritually and mentally so as well.

And the view from the top of the mountain was well worth the sweat and aching joints of the climb up – before us lay the entire region of Umbria, visible for miles on end. With the glory of Italy before me, I felt entirely humbled. I think I would have acted in exactly the same manner as Francis … it was so beautiful, and it amazed me to consider the creator of the world creating this and creating me.

Up on the mountaintop, Joe and I were entirely alone, yet surrounded with life. It was so amazing, the beauty so overwhelming, that I just had to tell someone. But the only things around were some cows, a donkey, the birds, a grasshopper – not another soul for miles. If I weren’t embarrassed to do so in front of Joe, I probably would have started talking to the grasshoppers. But like a good Dominican, I stood atop the mountain and recited Psalms in Latin. Caeli enarrant gloriam Dei, et opera manuum eius adnuntiat firmamentum.

Some are called to walk in the footsteps of Francis. I am not. But, spending the day in the footsteps of my brother Francis, I silence my tongue too quick to criticize, and I thank him for one of the most edifying days of my life.