Epiphed Off
As we sat around the editorial room at the Mother Jones house, Ella suggested an opening question to get our creative juices flowing: “what is an epiphany to you? When have you had one?” We all eagerly dove into stories about various epiphanies we had. The stories ranged from radical life lessons to the seemingly mundane conversations we’ve shared with others that taught us something about the world we live in, or about ourselves. When I was asked if I've ever had an epiphany, I reflected back on a time that has been foundational in my own spiritual life.
I had just graduated from community college and planned on spending Christmas and New Year’s in Italy. I expected to go with my father, but due to illness he could not join me, so I embarked on this journey, this pilgrimage, on my own. I spent some time in Rome, but on Christmas morning, I very happily left the hustle and bustle of the big city to head to Assisi, home of my patron saint: Francis.
I spent time in the beautiful basilicas, chapels, churches, and on the mountain where Francis and his followers embraced a life of poverty and simplicity for the sake of the Gospel. One of Saint Francis’ epiphanies occurred in the church of San Damiano, at the foot of the hill upon which the old city of Assisi sits. It is a lovely church, with a small, quiet chapel that later became home to Saint Claire, Francis’ spiritual sister. Francis sat in the same chapel I was sitting in over 700 years ago, and it was there in his time of intense prayer that he heard the voice of God saying to him, “Francis, my church is falling into ruin, go and rebuild it.”
The timeless message that Francis heard that day inspired him to go home, steal his father’s merchandise, and sell it to buy bricks and mortar for this run-down chapel. It was only later in Francis’ life that the meaning behind this message became clear: the Church is spiritually crumbling, there is rampant corruption, the poor were not being helped, and it is the job of the faithful to rebuild the Church in a spiritual sense. I spent a lot of time in the Chapel of San Damiano, and on the final day of my pilgrimage, I decided that I would spend the day there in prayer asking God for direction in my life. They opened their doors at 4:00 a.m., and I decided to be there when they opened to have a day dedicated to prayer.
That morning, I didn’t wake up until about 11:00 a.m., angry at myself for missing my opportunity to be holy. I trudged down to the chapel only to find that it had closed early that day, and that my final day in Assisi would not find me in prayer and meditation in a spot that was so significant to me spiritually. So, I did what anyone else would have done: I shook my fist at God and went to go find lunch.
After wandering around the streets of the Old City for the day, I went back to my room and put on some music. I was still stewing, feeling resentful at myself and at God for not waking me up in time, and a song came on. The song reminded me of a friend who described himself as an “atheist, materialist, and libertarian.” His self-professed goal in life was to have a lot of money, lots of fast cars, beautiful women, and a big house. As I thought of this poor sap and his unending chase for more and more, I was feeling smug knowing that I was in Assisi, this place of spiritual significance, doing something important, something better than what he was doing. And that’s when God smacked me in the face: I had been chasing spiritual experiences the same way this guy was chasing money! Who was the one in a sad state then? Humility had leveled the playing field.
I still find myself chasing mountaintop experiences. I crave a closeness with God (who is always present), but I am seldom ready for. But the “epiphany” I had that day was one that told me “be still, and know that I am God.” I am a participant in life today, in God’s creation, which is fearfully and wonderfully made, and I am along for the ride. The more I try to wrestle control from God, the more miserable I am, but when I can learn to laugh with God, that’s when life begins to get better and take on a new meaning.