Inspired by St. Francis, I slept in a graveyard. (Reflections on the 800th anniversary of the death of San Francesco)
By Robert Fontana
When I went to LSU in the winter of 1977, I met two people who would transform my life: my future wife Lori and St. Francis of Assisi.
I know, what a crazy juxtaposition of encounters. Thankfully, as Lori and I fell in love, we both became enamored with St. Francis (and St. Clare).
At this time, I was wrestling with the hold that the dominant materialistic culture had on me and on so many Catholics. Some friends of my parents, inspired by the Gospels, had sold their middle-class homes to move into low income, racially mixed neighborhoods to live with and serve the poor. Their example challenged and inspired me.
“What are my values? What does it mean to have “enough?” What am I willing to sacrifice to help others less fortunate than I? What does it mean to imitate Jesus in the world that I live in – buying records and history books, attending sports events, enjoying nights out with friends, watching John Wayne movies and M.A.S.H. reruns?”
These questions were whirling in my head during my college years. One day Lori and I went to see the movie Brother Sun/Sister Moon, a poetic but not very historical representation of the conversion of St. Francis and the early days of the Franciscan movement. I was spellbound. I began to read everything I could about St. Francis and later St. Clare. Lori joined in. These saints gave us clear examples of two ordinary young people who fell in love with Jesus and, against the wishes of their families and friends, left the comfort and security of their middle- and upper-class lifestyles to live lives of simplicity, deep prayer, community, and service to the very poor.
We were determined to do the same. But how?
I had an idea. Francis began his life as a beggar. When Jesus told him to “repair my church for as you see it is in ruins,” Francis thought Jesus was talking about the broken-down church of San Damiano in which he was praying. So, he went about Assisi begging for stones to rebuild the church. I thought, “I can be a beggar like St. Francis.”
I formed the wild idea of hitchhiking from Baton Rouge to New Orleans and then walking from the international airport to the New Orleans French Quarter, 14 miles away. I would carry no money, no food. I had only bookmarks with either the 23rd Psalm or the Lord’s Prayer. These I would hand out along the way to all I encountered. For food I would go to restaurants and offer to work for a meal. I had no plans for where I would sleep. Lori, like St. Clare, would go to a retreat center in New Orleans and pray that I wouldn’t be killed.
I had done some hitchhiking during my college years, so getting to New Orleans was no problem. I was dropped off near the airport and began my walk and simple evangelization effort, handing out the bookmarks to people I met. Most people were happy to receive them; some were suspicious. However, restaurant managers, one after another, refused to allow me to work for a meal. What to do? Keep walking towards the French Quarter as it got dark, a little cold (it was autumn), and damp. By 1 am, there were no people on the streets, and I was looking for a safe place to sleep, thus the graveyard.
New Orlean’s graveyards are tourist sites because of the many famous people buried in them, and because all graves are structures built above ground. I entered the graveyard and found a spot away from the road that had a bench next to the grave. I used the bench as my bed and went to sleep.
That didn’t last long. It was cold! By 3 a.m. I was on my feet looking for a better place to sleep. I found it inside a school bus in a church parking lot. I slept in it until I was awakened by a light from the nearby sacristy where the priest was vesting for early morning Mass. I made it to Mass and met the priest afterwards asking him for a meal in exchange for some work. He told me to come back later, and so I walked on handing out my bookmarks.
I did get a meal that morning when a kind waitress at a restaurant insisted on buying me breakfast. (I returned to the restaurant two weeks later and repaid her.) Then I made it to the French Quarter. Now what? I met up Lori, and we talked about what we had learned from this “experience.”
She said, “You and St. Francis are wacky!”
No, she didn’t really say that. But we did conclude that God will provide for us as we seek his will, though not always in the way we think nor without suffering.
Lori and I do not consider ourselves outstanding imitators of St. Francis. Yet we have continued to pray over and study his life and St. Clare’s. As our church commemorates the 800th anniversary of the death of St. Francis, the examples of Francis and Clare continue to challenge us to keep asking the question: how do we follow Jesus with courage and fidelity in our dominant culture based on power, possessions, and privilege made possible by so much wealth? In 2019 we did a pilgrimage walk from Florence to Assisi to prayerfully walk half of the Via di Francesco (Way of St. Francis). This October we will complete the Via by walking from Assisi to Rome.
We will trek along pathways walked by St. Francis. We will carry all we need on our backs. But we won’t be sleeping in a graveyard, God willing. We’re opting for a pilgrim’s hostel with a bed and a shower!
