Assisi in a Day

Within Assisi, there are several "must-sees." On your way into town (assuming that you arrive by train), stop first by Santa Maria degli Angeli to see the humble chapel that Francis frequently attended, and you can stop by the room where St. Francis spent his last moments. Once you've made your way up the hill, the Basilica of Santa Chiara is also a worthwhile stop. The church itself is beautiful (the pink and white striped exterior seems to perfectly capture the town's simple charms), and it also contains the painted crucifix that supposedly spoke to a young, materialistic Francis, prompting his dramatic conversion. And, of course, there are the basilicas in honor of the man himself. The upper basilica is open and majestic, while the lower basilica is squat and round, giving a personal and cozy feeling. An even lower descent leads to a dim and simple chapel - Francis's final resting place.

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The drums we first heard came from one section of the town, moving through the narrow streets and playing a synchronized beat. They led other residents of their neighborhood to the town center, who played as they, dressed as nobility, entered the town hall. We were completely confused by what was going on, and the confusion only increased when we heard drumming coming from an opposite corner of the square. Another group of drummers emerged, leading their own procession. From inside the town hall, speeches and cheers periodically spilled out into the piazza, where the drummers remained just long enough to explain the festival to a curious middle-aged American tourist, "Every May we have very big party." Eventually, the drummers, still playing with their own groups, processed to the Basilica San Chiara, where they faced one another, playing until their two different beats merged into one.

Assisi in the spring is beautiful, and the festival is exhilarating. I can't imagine a better time to have visited the tiny Umbrian town.

Two other churches stood on the site before the present one was built, and even before those two, a Roman cistern was built beneath where the bell tower currently stands. You can visit the cistern if you're so inclined. The church also houses a little museum where you can view a series of frescoes, some relics, and pieces from the original church. Again, this is not unlike any number of other Italian churches.

But there is something that makes this place exceptionally unique. The main reason to visit this relatively small, unassuming church is its baptismal font. Once upon a time, baby St. Francis, baby St. Clare, and baby Emperor Frederick II were all baptized here. And while that gives the church itself historical significance and a great deal of interest for pilgrims, the actual baptismal font is also still present (and still used), so you can stand in the same spot where their parents or a priest once held them. In Assisi, it is always fascinating to consider the significant individuals who have walked through its narrow streets, but standing by the font, envisioning each of these three individuals as squirmy babies with entire lifetimes of influence ahead of them, is a genuinely powerful experience.

The interior is a typical Umbrian Gothic basilica, with an open, vast apse and medieval frescoes. A side chapel (actually it used to be its own church – San Giorgio – before the newer basilica was built) provides one of the most interesting relics in Assisi. As the story goes, St. Francis, the materialistic and worldly son of a wealthy Assisi family, was praying at the nearby church of San Damiano when the painted crucifix spoke to him, telling him to simplify his life and rebuild the Catholic Church. Francis took the message to heart, and the crucifix can now be seen in this otherwise unimpressive chapel at the Basilica di Santa Chiara. When I visited, the chapel was fairly empty and quiet. Many tourists hear that a cross spoke to Francis at San Damiano and go in search of it there (where there is now simply a replica), and consequently, this chapel remains a peaceful and meditative spot.

St. Clare's body (along with that of her sister, also a saint, and their mother) is now located in the crypt of the church, as are a series of relics related to Assisi's two most famous residents. Among the most impressive and moving are the robe of St. Francis, a garment that Clare herself sewed, and a letter written by Francis that bares his simple signature T-style cross.

The upper basilica, an open Gothic church, offers a series of large frescoes (maybe by Giotto--scholars are still debating that one) that narrates St. Francis's story. Because the narration takes place in Assisi, many of the settings will look fairly familiar. Some of the frescoes show cracks and damage that resulted from a violent 1997 earthquake. Given the basilica's size and its seemingly precarious perch on the edge of the hill, it's astounding that the damage wasn't more substantial. But, despite the natural disaster, the frescoes (and the basilica as a whole) remain in good shape.

Descending down in to the lower basilica leads you in to an entirely different environment. The two are perfect opposites: whereas the upper basilica is long and open, the lower is wide and squat. You can again find an abundance of frescoes by Martini, Giotto, and Lorenzetti. The ceiling above the altar bares a series of paintings that I particularly like presenting allegories of the Franciscan vows. My personal favorite represents Francis's vow of poverty. In it, angels watch as Christ presides over the marriage of Francis to a woman in a tattered dress standing in thorns. The allegory is not overly complex, but it perfectly exemplifies the simplicity and joy with which Francis accepted his calling.

The final, lowest level of the basilica is the plainest, but also the most emotionally striking. At the end of a cool, primarily candlelit stone hall is a small collection of kneelers. These kneelers face a section of earth that was not removed when the crypt was constructed. Instead, the ground was left in place, along with what it contained--the bodies of St. Francis and several of his close friends. This section of the basilica is the quietest and the most peaceful. Almost instinctively, visitors lower their voices to a whisper and keep words to a minimum. Even for those who don't necessarily agree with Francis's religious convictions, the meditative atmosphere that his tomb inspires is inarguable.

The basilicas themselves are worth a visit because of the artwork that is present there, but the real reason to visit is Francis himself, and it is impossible to deny the powerful feelings that are felt when standing within 10 feet of the man himself.