Santa Maria Maggiore, Assisi

Run your hand along the stone of this facade. It feels cool and slightly rough, a pale stone with a soft pink tone. That stone comes from Monte Subasio, the mountain that rises behind Assisi. Most of the town is built from it. In the morning the walls look almost white. Late in the afternoon they turn the colour of apricots. Listen for the sounds of the lower town: footsteps on the paving, a bell from somewhere uphill, swallows above the square.

You are standing in front of Santa Maria Maggiore, one of the oldest churches in Assisi. Many visitors walk past it. They are heading for the great basilica of Saint Francis, or up to Santa Chiara and San Rufino. But this modest church holds layers that the bigger buildings do not. It is a place of Roman foundations, of medieval bishops, and of one of the most famous moments in the story of Saint Francis.

First, a surprise. For a long time, this church was Assisi's cathedral. The bishops of the town had their seat here, in the lower part of the old city. Only later, in the Middle Ages, did that role move uphill to San Rufino, the church dedicated to the town's patron saint. Santa Maria Maggiore kept its name, which means Saint Mary the Greater. But it gave up its rank. Today it feels quiet, almost humble — and that quiet is part of its character.

Look at the facade as a whole. It is simple and flat, in the Romanesque style. Romanesque is the building style of Europe around the eleventh and twelfth centuries, with thick walls, round arches, and little decoration. Here the decoration sits mostly in one place: the round rose window above the door. Its stone spokes radiate from a centre, like a wheel. Below it, the doorway is plain and solid. The whole front is built in neat courses of local stone.

Now think about what lies beneath your feet. Assisi was a Roman town long before it was a Christian one. Its Roman name was Asisium. This church stands on ancient remains, and Roman walls and foundations survive under and around it. Local tradition connects the site with a Roman temple, though the details are debated. What is clear is that the medieval builders did not start on empty ground. They built on top of the old town, reusing what was already here.

One of the most remarkable Roman sites in Assisi is close by. Beneath this part of town lies a Roman house with painted walls, often linked to the poet Propertius. Propertius wrote love poetry in the first century before Christ, and he came from this region of Umbria. Whether he actually lived in this house is uncertain. But the frescoes are real: panels of red and yellow, with small painted figures and garden scenes. Access is limited, so check locally if you hope to see them.

Step inside the church. The interior is cool and dim after the bright square. Your eyes need a moment. The space is simple, with stone walls and a calm, plain structure. On the walls you can find fragments of old frescoes, painted in the late Middle Ages. Some are faded to soft shadows of colour. Others still show faces, robes, and halos clearly. They are not a complete cycle. They are pieces, like pages torn from an old book.

Below the church is a crypt, an underground chamber. Crypts often belong to the oldest phase of a church, and this one carries traces of earlier building. Here the air feels different — still, a little damp, very quiet. Standing down there, you are closer to the Roman and early medieval town than almost anywhere else in Assisi. It is a good place to pause and imagine how many generations have stood on this spot.

Now walk out and look at the building beside the church. That is the Bishop's Palace, and the small square in front of it is linked to a famous scene. Here, according to the early accounts of his life, the young Francis faced his father in front of the bishop. His father was a rich cloth merchant. He wanted his money back. Francis gave it back — and then he took off his clothes and handed them over too.

The early biographers describe Francis standing almost naked before the crowd. He said that from now on, his only father was the Father in heaven. The bishop covered him with his own cloak. This moment is called the Spoliation, which means the stripping or the giving up of possessions. It marks the start of Francis's life of poverty. Many paintings show it, including the famous fresco cycle in the Basilica of Saint Francis.

Because of that story, this church now has a new role. In recent years it was named the Sanctuary of the Spoliation. The old cathedral of Assisi became a place to remember Francis's choice to give everything away. It is a fitting link. The church stands right next to the palace where the scene took place. You can stand in the square and look at both buildings in one view.

Here is a second surprise, and it is a modern one. This church is also the resting place of Carlo Acutis, a teenager from Milan who died in 2006. He loved computers and built websites about faith. He asked to be buried in Assisi because he loved Saint Francis. His body was brought to this sanctuary, and in 2025 the Catholic Church declared him a saint. Today many young pilgrims come here, and you may see a quiet line of visitors.

If you visit, remember that this is an active place of prayer. People kneel here in silence, and some travel a long way to come. Speak softly, and follow any signs about photographs. The calm of the church is part of what makes it special. In a town that receives many visitors, this is one of the places where you can still hear your own footsteps on the floor.

Before you leave, step back into the square and look once more. See the rose window, the pale stone, the Bishop's Palace beside it. Under your feet are Roman walls. In front of you is the place where a young man gave up his clothes and his inheritance. Inside lies a boy from the twenty-first century. As you walk on, notice how the stone changes colour with the light — the same stone that has held all these stories.