The Spirit of Assisi.

Two years after the medieval town of Assisi was devastated by an earthquake, local residents are getting on with their lives. By the end of 1999, reconstruction of the severely damaged Basilica of St. Francis was all but complete.

Yet behind the scenes, restorers are still at work, using computer imaging and traditional techniques to reassemble several of the vaulted dome's frescoes which are still in pieces after crashing to the ground (September 26, 1997.)

At 11.42 a.m., after a night when the stability of many of Assisi's buildings had been savagely tested by a very strong earthquake, a second, more violent tremor ripped through the heart of the historic town.

After it was over, its main monuments, from the Cathedral of Saint Rufino and the Basilica of St. Clare to Santa Maria degli Angeli and the Sanctuary of St. Damian, had all been so seriously damaged they were declared unfit for use and closed indefinitely.

The worst tragedy, however, occurred in the Basilica of St. Francis itself where technicians from the Monuments and Fine Arts Office, accompanied by monks and city authorities, were assessing the damage caused by the previous night's tremors.

Precisely at that moment, as a second, more violent earthquake shook the basilica, part of the vault above the main altar in the Upper Basilica crumbled into a huge cloud of dust, killing two technicians and two monks as it smashed to the ground.

Desolate debris

In those fatal moments, sections of Giotto's elegant starry sky painted on an intense blue background and one of the sections of the famous Doctors' Vault, where St. Jerome was frescoed, were completely lost. So was a section where the figures of St. Rufino, St. Anthony, St. Francis and St. Glare were depicted, as well as one of St. Matthew on the Evangelists' Vault, decorated by Cimabue above the transept, which, as it fell, irretrievably crushed the splendid high altar.

In less than a minute, four bodies and a pile of desolate debris lay on the marble floor.

The ancient town and all of Italy were in shock.

Yet almost immediately, out of the awful detritus, the long, arduous task of restoration commenced with a search for fragments to reinforce the shaken monuments and piece together the jigsaw puzzle of shattered frescoes.

Thus began the difficult process, the rebirth of Assisi and its priceless basilica, pursued with unshakeable determination by an army of restorers, artisans and volunteers even as the tremors continued to shake the town for several weeks afterwards.

Since then, the ceiling paintings have been painstakingly reconstructed by devoted restorers using photographs as guides--a tremendously difficult task when you consider that instead of being left exactly where it fell, the debris had been shovelled to one side into a giant heap of plaster rubbish.

As for life in the wounded Assisi itself, it has returned to the simple splendour that has always characterised the town, though, more than two years later, hundreds of its residents remain homeless, still forced to live in makeshift arenas until their homes are rebuilt.

For almost 800 years, Assisi and St. Francis (1182-1226) have been synonymous. Here so many places speak of him: the little church of San Damiano, the hermitage of the Carceri, the cathedral of San Rufino, the hovel of Rivotorto, the basilica of Santa Chiara and, of course, the basilica complex erected in his honour.

It was also here that in 1223, three years before his death, Pope Honorius III finally granted the saint approval for his monastic order of friars. Little could Francis have imagined then the beauty or sheer size of the edifice that would be erected to commemorate him.

First came the land--donated two years after his death in 1226. Then came the first stone, laid by Pope Gregory the day after Francis was canonised in 1228. Originally conceived by Brother Elias, the double church and tomb were to be built in the shape of the tau cross, the biblical sign of salvation so dear to St. Francis. Amazingly, the Lower Church was already complete by 1230 and on May 25 of that year, the body of the saint was solemnly transferred into it and it was set under his spiritual protection.

It wasn't until 1467, however, that the vast basilica complex seen today--with its Upper and Lower churches, its arcades and its monastery-- was complete. As such, it has remained a repository of architecture, painting and prayer, containing within it the tomb of its founder, the frescoes of the greatest painters of the 13th and 14th centuries (of whom Giotto is perhaps the most famous) and the entire history of the Christian world during the Middle Ages.

City of peace and brotherhood

The town itself is similar--set forever in the 15th century. Therein lies its charm.

As I wandered through winding streets along the mountainside of the old town that December weekend, I encountered extraordinary panoramic views, the remains of ancient monuments, hidden chapels, delightful delicatessens and cafes, and dozens of pottery and embroidery shops. Of course, there are countless souvenir shops as well, packed to the wooden rafters with religious articles. But, surprisingly, they seemed neither crass nor obtrusive. Somehow it all works. As does the peace and stillness of the place, which is remarkable, even miraculous.

It is said that shortly before his death, as St. Francis was on his way to Santa Maria degli Angeli from Assisi, he stopped halfway down the mountain. Turning towards his city, he blessed the town with these words: "May you be blessed by God, holy city, for through you many souls will be saved and many servants of God will dwell in you and many of yours will be elected to the realm of eternal life."

And so it was. In the centuries since then, this city has been a spiritual city, a new Jerusalem, attracting innumerable souls for religious reasons alone. Indeed, many of those who climb this holy mount sense for themselves that the spirit of St. Francis is still alive and that the values of Franciscan spirituality (love and peace, the search for God, the love of nature and work, and ecumenical obedience to Holy Mother Church) are within the reach of all.

Indeed, in the cathedrals and small sanctuaries of the city, one becomes aware that the words 'prayer', 'peace', 'brotherhood' and 'love' are not cliches but real forces that can be sent into the world. This is what is commonly called "the spirit of Assisi", and for many visitors, including myself, its power is palpable.

Sitting in a cafe looking out at a fountain in the piazza of the Torre del Commune late one afternoon, I watched a small spotted dog trying to befriend a kitten sitting on the ledge of an ancient fountain. The kitten eyed him coolly, came near, lingered for a few moments and then walked away. Visibly disappointed, the dog then cast a friendly gaze up at a bird flying over his head.

Without warning, the tiny bird landed and quietly stood next to the dog for the longest time. Finally, it flew away and the dog went in search of another friend.

I'll never forget that dog. They say St. Francis is the patron saint of animals. I believe it.

Paula Adamick is editor and publisher of The Canada Post in London, England, and is a regular columnist with Catholic Insight.