This year I celebrated the feast of St. Francis far away from Assisi and from its beauty of spirituality and art, far away from the living memory of the Poverello, almost impressed in those stones. On the Eighth Centenary of the Stigmata, I accepted the invitation to go to Canindé, in the Brazilian Northeast, where for over a hundred years a sanctuary has stood, that of St. Francis of the Stigmata. As we drove from Fortaleza along the road dotted with palm trees and cacti to get to Canindé, I could see more and more vehicles, loaded with pilgrims arriving at the sanctuary. Many do it on foot, even barefoot.
When we enter Canindé I begin to see many people, small and large, walking; many are dressed in a robe. Then I glimpse hammocks everywhere, hanging between the trees in the green spaces or in the squares. It’s all teeming with life, words, songs, glances hugs, prayers. The whole city becomes a sanctuary. Not only the church of St. Francis of the Stigmata, packed to the brim with people, but also the streets, even the kiosks where one can drink something cool because the heat gives no respite.
These simple people, marked by the sun and by toil, spread throughout the city of St. Francis, as they call it, seeking his hidden presence, entrusting themselves to his prayers.
In the sanctuary there is a hole through which everyone peeks, hoping to see St. Francis who, according to popular belief, lives hidden in this place and from which he dispenses graces of all kinds. I thought of how the faith of the simple contains a truth. Would that God grant that those who visit our places and our houses of friars could seek and be touched by the presence of Francis, alive through our existences as brothers and minors!
The procession and the Transitus on the evening of October 3 see over half a million people gathering, singing, celebrating, praying, being silent. Many volunteers, especially young people, enthusiastic about being part of this popular celebration, which here embraces Francis, feels him as theirs, experiences him present and active.
Many people wait outside the confessionals, pray in the sanctuary and sleep there because of a promise made; others participate in the Eucharist, then gather around the hammocks and prepare to spend the night in the open air. The heat is oppressive, but it does not stop anyone’s momentum.
According to the people of the Brazilian Northeast, Francis lives in Canindé. Francis lives where he is sought, where his steps are trodden on dusty roads, where hope is kindled in a spark of life, of healing, of forgiveness. The poor, in their own way, know how to recognize the trail that Francis leaves and to follow it. May they teach us not to tire of seeking him and with him to follow in the footsteps of Christ.
