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ST. FRANCIS AT GRECCIO
A LEGEND
Adapted by
BROTHER BENEDICT SIMON, O.F.M.
The Missing King
On the slope of a high moun
tain opposite the town of Grec-
eio in the valley of Rieti, Italy,
the traveler who goes in search
of Franciscan Sanctuaries, will
discover from afar a small mon
astery, whose foundation goes
as far back as the beginning of
the 13th century. This mona
stery is associated with a mir
acle worked by God to show that
the life of St. Francis and his
friars should be a retired one,
and should be passed in places
secluded from the noise of the
world.
Let us first relate this mirac
ulous event before narrating the
account of the institution of the
Crib, which afterward took
place in this monastery.
THE BOY AND THE BRAND
Among the many in the town
of Greccio who had resolved by
the preaching of St. Francis to
live a holy life was a rich man
who frequently visited the
Saint. The two often held long
holy conversations. But this
wealthy gentleman, being old
and delicate, found it no easy
task to ascend the steep moun
tain leading to Francis’ solitary
abode. Both desirous of not
missing those instructions which
filled his soul with heavenly
consolation, he requested St,
Francis to select his abode
somewhere near him.
St. Francis assented on con
dition that a little boy should
be placed in the piazza which
stands in the middle of the
town; that the boy should throw
a firebrand; and that, wherever
it should strike, there should be
the place of his residence. The
proposal was readily accepted
since the rich man was convinc
ed that the brand would not go
beyond the piazza. •
The boy was there with the
brand, surrounded by the throng
of people in a state of eager
suspense. St. Francis ordered
the boy to throw the brand; but
lo! it went onward till it struck
a rock a mile distant from the
town, on the slope of a high
mountain, where it left a black
mark which can be seen even
today.
God having shown by a mir
acle where the monastery should
be built, and the mountain be
ing the property of the man who
accepted the proposal, he donat
ed it to the friars, and there
built a monastery for their use.
Being in one of his usual re
treats in preparation for the
feast of the Nativity, St. Fran
cis was inspired to represent the
great mystery in such a way as
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(Continued from Page 4B)
Kathy had left him with the
Faith that she had brought him,
but his religious faith, since she
had gone, burned low and flick
ered like the candle he was
holding.
Suddenly there was a sharp
rap on the door, and he could
hear the muffled sound of a
voice.
“Open up, open up!”
A moment later Jack Russell
was in the room.
“Jeff!”
“Hello, Jack. Come in.”
“I saw the light. On my way
down town for some last-minute
shopping before the stores close.
You know how it is. Didn’t
know you were back. I thought
maybe somebody was camping
Dial PA. 2-9937
to bring to the mind of the peo
ple the birth of the Savior with
all the attendant circumstances.
He constructed a platform in
a little chapel near the door
which leads into the monastery.
On it he built an artificial grot
to, in the interior of which he
placed the figure of Mary and
of St. Joseph, and the ox and ass
representing the two animals
that were in the stable at the
time of the birth of the Christ-
Child. Then he placed outside,
here and there, the figures of
shepherds in the act of watching
their flocks, and on high the
heavenly messenger announc
ing to them the birth of the
Savior.
DIVINE APPARITION
On Christmas night a solemn
Mass was sung in the chapel, St.
Francis serving as deacon. Mass
being over the figure represent
ing the Divine Infant, which
during Mass had been exposed
on the altar, was carried in pro
cession by the celebrant of the
Mass to the spot, and was plac
ed in the manger by St. Francis.
No sooner had Francis depos
ited the sacred figure than
Christ appeared on his arms in
tHe form of a beautiful Infant
surrounded with an aureola of
glory. The people were over
come with a supernatural joy
at the sight of the divine appari
tion.
The prodigious event was soon
spread throughout the surround
ing neighborhood, and among
the friars who, desirous of imi
tating the devotion of their Holy
Father, introduced the pious
custom of representing the
“Grotto Crib” in the different
churches of his order during
the holy season of Christmas.
In the course of time the de
votion was introduced into other
churches outside the Francis
can Order, and later pious peo
ple had the great mystery rep
resented in some fitting place
within their private homes.
The custom has been intro
duced in Italy, to have little
children deliver a short but fer
vent panegyric in honor of the
Santo Bambino in the Francis
can church of Ara Coeli. These
innocent children pour forth
words of fervor as to move the
most obstinate sinners. One
cannot leave the sacred place
without being overcome with
religious emotions, for it seems
like listening to those angelic
choirs who sang around the
Grotto of Bethlehem over 19
centuries ago.
ANOTHER MIRACLE
The origin of the little Image
of Ara Coeli has often been ask
ed. For the benefit of the read
er I here give its origin as re
lated by a Franciscan Brother,
once a member of the monastery
of St. Savior in Jerusalem;
“One day a saintly Franciscan
Brother conceived the idea to
carve, from the wood of an
olive tree that had grown in the
Garden of Gethsemane, a small
figure of the Christ-Child. Hav
ing no paint with which to
beautify his little image, he re
sorted to prayer. Instantly the
figure before hi mtook on the
color of human flesh.
Some years after, this same
Image was taken aboard ship by
the saintly Brother whom obedi
ence had called to another mon
astery.
Strange to say the ship car-
ryin the Image and the good
Brother was wrecked off the
coast of Italy. Some days later
the little Image was found on
a beach by a beautiful little boy,
who, after he had safely deposit
ed it in the hands of the Father
Guardian of the monastery of
Ara Coeli, miraculously dis
appeared.”
This unique statue of olive
wood carved by the saintly
Spanish Franciscan Brother is
kept in a shrine in the sacristy
of Ara Coeli. It is clothed in
white robes of rich silk, and has
been decorated by grateful
clients of the Bambino with so
many jewels of priceless value
that the dress of the Holy In
fant is almost entirely covered
with them.
out here or something.”
“I came back today.”
“Say, this place looks gloomy.
Yo utoo. Like a ghost in that
candlelight.”
“I guess I am a kind of ghost,
Jack. Everything’s dead here.”
“Say, fella, I didn’t mean to
put you in mind of Kathy — I
mean, this is no time to be
gloomy. It’s Christmas Eve. I
know what. We’re having a par
ty over at Pete’s house tonight.
Come over and hang on a few.”
“I might just do that, Jack.”
“Sure, fella. Well, I’ll see you
later. Stay here and you’ll get
pneumonia like — I mean, you
come on over to that party.
Well, I’d better be going now.”
THE UNFINISHED STATUE
Yes, he could go to Pete’s par
ty, live it up with that universi
ty crowd. They always had a
businessman like Jack Russell
along, for laughs. They could
have an artist, for laughs.
But he had not come back
for that. What was it? he won
dered. What pulled him across
the ocean back to this house,
and on this day, of all days?
He set his candle down on a
rough table, the one he used to
mix his paints on. As he did he
remembered the table’s short
leg, and the ingenious sugges
tion Kathy used to have for
fixing it. He looked around in
the semi-darkness for some
thing to slip under the leg. He’d
get a fire going and eat out here,
not in the cold kitchen.
In the corner he stumbled
over a carved figure, a foot
high — unfinished. He exam
ined the statue — a bearded
man, in robes, his hand out
stretched, bearing a gift.
A half-formed memory nag
ged him, then broke on him like
a flood. It was his last promise
to Kathy. He had been work
ing on a group of figures for
the new creche for their parish
church. He had carved them all
except for one of the Three
Kings. After Kathy’s death he
had simply packed up what he
had finished and dumped the
figures at the rectory door. He
had forgotten until this moment
that he had never completed
the job.
Moving the figure closer to
the candle, he appraised it with
a professional eye. Just an hour
or two more of work and this
journeying gentleman who
waited so long to complete his
journey . . . That’s me, he
thought, the missing king, fol
lowing something, following a
promise.
It was nearer three hours
when he got up from his work,
satisfied. He looked out the
front window. People were pass
ing by, hurrying along to Mid
night Mass in a light snowfall.
He put on his coat and hat,
blew out the candle, and step
ped out into the snow to join
them. Under his arm he carried
a gift.
THE BULLETIN, December 27, 1958—PAGE 5-B
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