I travel Europe like I walk my slackline: in one outstretched hand I hold the contradiction between a growing understanding of my religious institutional heritage and my personal faith (ever in process). I grapple for balance on the thin wire and can only balance myself with my other arm – this hand, held palm up, gratefully holds the growing knowledge and appreciation I have for Saint Francis of Assisi, whom I have been reading about since we left Home Sweet St. Stephen.
St. Francis of Assisi: I feel as though I am a pilgrim striving for more understanding, more insight, and more experience. Now, having just left three overwhelming days in Rome, I find myself in a small cafe/bar with the peaceful lights of Assisi at night glowing on the nearby hills.
In one hand I hold St. Peter’s Basilica, in contradiction and in tension with my rebellious ‘I listen to Rob Bell pod-casts’ faith; in the other I hold a man who kissed the feet of corrupt priests, knowing it was his role to love rather than judge (knowing his own frailties full well).
I have challenged myself to better understand my religious heritage this summer: an obligation? a responsibility?
Keep us in your hearts as we struggle with whats been laid on ours.
Peace. From Assisi.