(can not find attribution as to the title or artist of this painting. We’ll call it ‘Claire gets her hair cut’ for now. If you know the attribution, please tell me and I will update.)
Visions of Sister Moon:
An entirely fictional and imagined correspondence between Claire and Francis of Assisi. By Cat Vibert
Click here to view series on one page. Scroll to the bottom.
Francis, dear, mon soleil de frère,
You should receive this on the day of your arrival. I have had so many visions while you were away. And even my sister Agnes, she has been having visions. I received your letter yesterday and was taken aback that you have also been having visions of the old crone. I have had several visions of her now, and have tried to map the meaning of her presence there. Her presence always seems to be related to a darkness Francis, a darkness that I know I must reconcile with. A reconciliation that I believe may take a lifetime of prayer and contemplation.
I had a vision of Our Lord as well Francis, and have made my decision. In this vision Our Lord appeared to me on the path I have been walking in the hills above the village. He was dragging the cross and was bleeding from the thorns in his head. He asked me to take his burden Francis, and then he handed me the cross. I took the cross in my hands, but the weight of the cross was so heavy that I fell to the ground and lost consciousness. But then I had a dream, and the crone appeared to me again. I have not told you of the earlier visions of her, I believe they were meant for myself only, but I will confide this to you as I believe it was meant to be shared.
She stood over me as I lay upon the ground, and she was laughing at me. I woke and sat up to face her. I felt a great fear rise in me, yet stood upon my feet and put my hands on her shoulders. I asked her to please tell me what she wanted of me. Her presence has been so indirect and I felt drawn into a murky blackness. A blackness from all of the metaphor her visions have brought me, so many possible interpretations. I shook her and I begged her, my voice becoming shrill and piercing like a raptor. I implored to her, “Please, I am afraid and I do not know of what, reveal the darkness to me so that I may bring light to what impedes me.”
“You are living in a dream of romantic delusion, it is as if there are two of you,” she said and then laughed, and the sound of her laughter echoed and grew upon itself until I shook her again.
“Stop!” I begged her. “How do I purge this other self, this dreamer of delusion?”
And she looked deep into my eyes Francis, with great compassion. And in one eye was the sun, and in the other was the moon. She stared at me like this until the bodies merged into the shape of a heart. I dropped my hands from her shoulders and stood back. When my eyes regained focus on her face, it was the face of Our Lord as he stood holding the cross. Again he handed me the cross. Again I took it, but it was light as a feather. He spoke to me Francis and revealed this.
“You can not purge a part of the whole, Claire. You will carry the burden of my cross throughout your life. The burden is the shadow of darkness, but while others will swim unguided through this darkness, you now have the gift of clear seeing. You will be a clear light within the darkness you see both within and without. If ever you should feel overburdened, Claire, you will find the burden will grow light again by looking to the animals and plants that inhabit all of nature. Tend to them Claire, and learn their ways, renouncing collections of wealth and sentiment. As you bring light into this darkness by how you live your life in service, your body will prove to be a light for eons to come.”
And then he was gone, and I woke, and was lying on the ground.
I know now with certainty Francis, that I will happily take the vows of marriage to Our Lord, and ask that you receive my vows as soon as possible upon your return. I don’t wish for you to look upon me as a maiden any more. As a sacrifice of sentiment I ask that you will sheer my hair and I, like you, will wear a plain tunic and live a life of service, renouncing all wealth for the rest of my days.
In the Heart of Our Lord to whom I come as a bride,
Claire
©2010
Notes:
Clare of Assisi was ordained by Francis and his companions in the small chapel ‘Mary of the Angels’. She lived a life of radical poverty and established the order of Poor Clares, nuns who chose to live as she did. Two of her sisters also chose this path. Ultimately Clare became the abbess of San Damiano, which Francis had rebuilt with his own hands.
Toward the end of his life, Francis received the stigmata and as a result was ill and blinded. Clare built a small reed hut for him on the grounds of San Damiano in order to tend to him as he was dying. It was there that he wrote ‘Canticle of the Creatures” in 1225. He died shortly thereafter and was canonized in 1228.
Clare passed away on August 11, 1253 and was canonized in 1255. In 1850 her tomb was discovered and opened and it was found that her body never decomposed. It is on display at the new crypt of Basilica of St. Clare in Assisi, Italy.
Dedication:
I dedicate this work to my two grandmothers. The picture in the first part is of a statue of St. Clare which was given to me by my maternal grandmother Vera. The rosary in the image was left to me by my paternal grandmother, Dorothy, affectionately known as Dodo. Dodo loved St. Francis and carried this prayer on a well worn card I found inside her pocket bible after she died.
Prayer of St. Francis
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace;
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon:
where there is doubt, faith ;
where there is despair, hope
where there is darkness, light
where there is sadness, joy
O divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.
Amen.
