More Paris: Medieval Revelations

Saint Francis of Assisi endures today as the patron saint of animals and the environment due to a reputation for his ultra-sensitive ability to communicate with animals and birds, and his praise for nature, especially noted in his poem, Song of the Sun.

In the remarkable Musée De Cluny in Paris, a museum of the Middle Ages housed in a 15^th century mini-castle, are many relics such as this bronze engraving of "the stigmata" of St. Francis. He stands with his arms upraised toward the amazing depiction of an angel: a bony skeleton wrapped in rainbow-colored feathers. Four brightly budded trees mimic the four points of the cross as the two figures share the stigmata associated with the Christian-lauded Crucifixion.

St. Francis, or Francesco Bernardone, spent his early years as a troubadour of the French (Provençal) tradition, wandering playfully in bright costumes, singing and reciting poetry. Troubadours apparently originate from the Saracenic tribes from Syria and Arabia. Both the lute and poetry were tools used by the Sufis for spiritual development. Sufis today are associated by many as the esoteric sect of Islam, even as this is not perfectly accurate. (There are many Western Sufi Orders, in particular, whose traditions stem from Arabic origins but are not officially associated with Islam.) The Sufis themselves go by no real name (Sufi is simply a title for convenience) and claim no allegiance to any particular religion. This is part of their enduring tradition, and as Islam stemmed from Judaism and then Christianity, Sufism was also once thought by some to be the esoteric desert tradition of the Christians! Some time after Francesco embraced Christianity, he went to Pope Innocent III requesting permission to start a new monastic order, “The Lesser Bretheren” (Order of Friars Minor). In The Sufis, by Indries Shah, the connection is made between the Lesser Bretheren and an order of Sufis contemporary with St. Francis called “the Greater Brothers,” whose founding teacher, Najmuddin Kubra “The Greater,” had had an “uncanny influence over animals”.

Interestingly, St. Francis set out toward Syria in his early thirties, but returned to Italy for financial reasons. He tried again later, heading to Morocco by way of Spain, but returned home (1214) before reaching his destination due to illness. It should be recalled here that “Moorish Spain” existed until the 1490s, a gateway for Arabic and Muslim (and related) traditions into Europe that is much ignored today.

In 1224, St. Francis wrote the aforementioned Song of the Sun, a praise poem, considered to be the first Italian poem. An excerpt:

Be praised, my Lord, through all your creatures,
especially through my lord Brother Sun,
who brings the day; and you give light through him.
And he is beautiful and radiant in all his splendor!
Of you, Most High, he bears the likeness.

The beloved Sufi poet, Rumi (1207-1273), also wrote many poems to “the sun”, as excerpted here*:

We are cast like sunlight upon the earth.

And our light, passing through your body

as if it were an open window to our Source,

returns, purified, to you.

Whoever sees that sun says, “He is alive,”

and whoever sees only the window says, “He is dying.”

The Sufis, Shah, Indries. Anchor Books, 1964. Pgs 257-264.

*The Rumi Collection, ed. Heminski, Kabir. Shambhala, 1998.

Goddess Worship

La Chapelle Notre-Dame de la Medaille Miraculeuse is a beautiful sanctuary nestled in the center of Paris. The mosaic tiled walls at the altar gleam in fantastic hues of blue, white, and gold to create celestial backdrops, borders of lilies, bursts of light emanating from sacred hearts. A majestic Virgin, crowned and standing with angels, reigns over the entire space. This is the vision of holiness that appeared to St. Catherine in 1830, when she was a young, inexperienced nun just letting go of her place in the world outside the convent. The exhumed and mysteriously preserved body of St. Catherine sits to the left of the altar, and a quieter, more contemplative Madonna flanks on the right. This Virgin is a youthful, innocent woman, standing on the moon, a serpent at her feet, holding another orb, presumably the earth, in her hands. The image, though made overtly Christian with a cross stuck in the “earth”, also brings to mind many goddess images I have seen, from many traditions, over many spans of human history. And so I began to think more broadly about the very specific Virgin Mary inculcated in my mind as a child:

She is the Mother of All; moon, earth, heavens. The goddess divine both present in the world, and holding the world in her hands. She stands tall, confident, infallible. A snake appears at her feet, in this case meaning to symbolize the Christian female reclaiming Paradise from Eve’s error, a mark of triumph as her foot holds down the serpent and all its evil connotations in Christianity. But serpents have long accompanied images of goddesses as a symbol of wisdom and regeneration. Serpents were once known instantly as powerful symbols of knowledge.

Minoan Snake Goddess from Palace of Knossos, Greece, c. 1600 b.c.

Lid of Egyptian sarcophagus, the Louvre

Sekhmet

Athena

Buddhist Goddess

The Goddess is often depicted as a triple deity: Hera was associated with the three ages of woman; the virgin, the mother, and the old wise hag. (It’s worth noting here that the dictionary refers to “hag” as a witch or ugly old woman. The word “hagia” means holy; as in Hagia Sophia [Holy Wisdom] and Hagia Irene [Holy Peace].) Other goddesses with three aspects or forms: Hecate, the Celtic Brigid… and the three Mary’s present in the gospel stories: Mary of Bethany, the sister of Lazarus; Mary Magdalene, the apostle; and Mary, mother of Jesus.

Hecate

Brigid

Regardless of religious context, certain iconography seems to persist in our “collective unconscious” or social psyche. We continually seek to honor the Mystery of womanhood, the Mother, the earth, the moon and its cycles, the cycles of birth and death, and the Wisdom inherent in these. Whether we call Her the Virgin Mother, Devi, Manjushri, Isis, Shari, Athena, Hecate, Sekhmet, or Sofia; She persists in our hearts and minds.

Tanazanian mother at a clinic

[Note: Titles denote image above.]

21st Century Paris: Monasteries & Cathedrals

Wandering around Paris brings many delightful surprises both historical and contemporary. I appreciate the presence of history in the throes of daily living, as well as the skill at which the French transform historical elements into useful new spaces. It’s an overlapping of time and place that allows a feeling of connection to thrive—connection to our shared past, and our shared present. Aged Catholic monasteries and cathedrals have an especially diligent presence in Paris.

In the 5^th arrondissement, on Rue de Vaugirard, I stumbled upon the doorway to the Monestere de la Visitation, which is very austere and run-down, but scaffolding is visible beyond the wall, a heralding of rehabilitation.

On Rue du Bac, down a cobblestone lane is La Chapelle Notre-Dame de la Medaille Miraculeuse (Chapel of Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal) where a stunning chapel exists to honor the Virgin and the exhumed body of Saint Catherine, the nun that entered the convent there in 1830 and is said to have had visionary apparitions of instruction from the Virgin Mother. People travel there on pilgrimage from all over the globe and Parisians come throughout their regular day for what seemed like the liturgy of the hours. But even for someone without any interest in Catholic lore, the chapel makes for a welcoming, spirited space for rest and contemplation.

On Rue du Poissy sits an amazing old Cistercian (historically a very strict order) monastery now transformed into Le College des Bernardins, a place for inter-religious conversation, thought, research, and community. The large refurbished nave, with a web of arches, exists as both the entry and a place for art performances and exhibits. A tiny and very simplified meditation room sits tucked in the corner, open for any and all to reflect or pray quietly. Beyond this space is the college itself, with classrooms, libraries, etc.—creating a vibrant institute for intellectual and spiritual dialogue.

And in La Marais, near the Centre Pompidou, is an old run-down cathedral—St. Merri—dirtied by centuries of city air, having survived World War II, having stood unmoved among us and our ancestors, which hosts free classical concerts twice every weekend. It’s freezing inside in the winter, with no heat and very little sun penetrating the foggy stained glass, but all the seats fill for high quality music performances; the thunder of a piano or the cry of the violin echoing through the stone corridor.

Traveling Beyond Doubt, Again

Traveling (especially in foreign lands) uproots us from our habitual mind and usual comforts. It takes us out of fixed time and place, out of fixed ideas, and offers a barrage of new experience that stimulates the intellect and opens the heart. If you have ever wondered what people mean by “living in the present,” look to travel as example. During vacation or travel we are imminently aware from one moment to the next without our usual worrying about the future or obsessing on something that happened last week. The relaxation (and joy) we experience is simply a becoming present without the other psychological baggage we usually carry with us. It’s the state of being we might strive for in our everyday lives, a means to greater peace and capacity to love.

In Paris I surrendered to the “marvelous times” of the moment and found myself watching carefully, witnessing myself with a distance that allowed all sorts of new understanding to arise. I had set out across the ocean with hopes of finding clarity about some things in my life. When lightening bolts did not strike my head, dictating that I make this choice or move to that city, I was at first discouraged. Then I began to pay attention to what had my attention each day! The places I found myself seeking in Paris, the intensity with which I studied certain objects in museums, the inspiration I found myself jotting into a notebook, all create a picture I had not noticed before. In hindsight it becomes even more formed and recognizable, though still in some vague state. It requires faith, and discipline, to keep with the process; to believe that the answers I seek are here within my “reach,” even if my fingers cannot touch them.

*

Coming up in February…old Paris monasteries, hidden goddess worship, medieval artifacts from both France and the Middle East; as well as a renewed statement of purpose for Vigorous Faith.

Oh Paris, My Paris

It was a dazzling trip; a winter walk through history, creativity, and surprise. But nothing came out of this trip that I might have expected. On the contrary, what bubbled to the surface were realizations and perceptions that were wholly different than what I would expect for myself. But when I embarked on the Paris journey I made a conscious intention to be open to whatever would be revealed; to just be open, an emptied vessel to fill or not to fill. And so it was.

It is with wonder that I now understand how the most subtle shift in perception can shift the cosmos. Nothing dramatic or reality-tv inclined, just a thin sheath of fog moving this way and that, a change in light, a tender brush of wind on a bridge. And, voilà, something is now different than it had been before.

We often make the mistake of wanting huge, materially visible outcomes to mark what is new or different in our lives. We need to touch the wound with our own hands to believe it exists. Yet, with concentrated awareness comes recognition of a more subtle plane of experience. A knowing without touching...

Paris

I'm headed to Paris this upcoming week. I expect there will be many cathedrals to visit and much art, music, and beautiful architecture to attend to. Not to mention great company and sundry delicacies. It's the perfect voyage after a long year(s) of growth challenges; an opportunity to re-attune to the harmony and grace of Life, so that I can manifest some positive, foundational changes in my life.

And after six months trying out "Vigorous Faith", I suspect the blog could use some readjustments as well, which I will be thinking about during my travels. If anyone has any suggestions or comments on what direction the blog might take to be more accessible and more interesting, please let me know!

Until then, a bientot mes amies!