Sun, 05/13/2007 - 1:55pm

With my eyes closed, I almost felt like I was in heaven. Birds chirping, a light breeze blowing, the fragrant scent of early summer blooms playing across my nose – not your traditional May outing in the District, but pretty much par for the course at the Franciscan Monastery.

Nestled in a remote and hilly corner of Northeast D.C., the Franciscan Monastery and its cascading maze of gardens is the perfect setting for a quiet, relaxing afternoon. I first visited the Monastery last year, at the behest of my husband’s family – particularly his art historian mother – who insisted that we see the church’s ornate mosaics, carvings, sculptures and architecture. I have to admit: at first, I was hesitant. For all the commonalities between my in-laws and me, a passion for art is not one of them.

But we went, making the cross-town trek from Capitol Hill to the Brookland area, driving through seemingly remote parts of the city that more closely resembled the suburbs than the bustling metropolis I had come to know and love. I remember, after turning onto Quincy St, being immediately struck by the commanding presence of the massive church that loomed on the hilltop. Though at that point I had only been living in D.C. for a few months, I knew I had stumbled onto something special.

The Monastery stands in stark contrast to the drab gray austerity of the countless federal buildings that define downtown D.C. The 108-year-old national historic site draws inspiration from Byzantine, Romanesque, and Italian Renaissance church architecture. The main building is ornamented with intricate carvings, impressive columns and colorful stained glass. At its center stands a beautiful golden dome, which, on sunny days, glows bright like a lighthouse, drawing weary vessels to safety, peace and respite.

The building is encased by the Rosary Portico, an enclosed walkway lined with brilliant flowers that houses a dozen full-color mosaics depicting the life and passion of the Christ. Connecting the walkway and main church building is the Monastery’s upper garden, home to skillfully carved statues and an exquisite array of flora that explodes in dizzying rainbows of reds, yellows, pinks and purples.

Inside the church, I was struck by the cool sense of calm that pervaded the sanctuary. Because I did not visit the church during Mass, I was almost completely alone, except for the two or three roaming tourists who had, like me, inadvertently stumbled upon “D.C.’s best-kept secret.” To me, the church’s interior looked almost hand-carved, as if lovingly crafted from a single piece of speckled ivory marble. Home to three Shrines and a replica of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem, the church is shaped like a cross, with a majestic alter situated beneath the great golden dome in its center. The dome itself is open at the top, flooding the sanctuary with natural light that casts a golden hue throughout the entire room.

Below the church are the Catacombs and Crypts, maze-like passageways that simulate the dark hiding places of early Christians. Though technically only available for public viewing on free guided tours (offered hourly), I unknowingly slipped in for a personal exploration, venturing into one or two of the passageways on my own. True to tradition, the Catacombs were dark and dank, and, because I was alone, slightly unnerving. In my quick visit to the mazes, I made stops in the Chapel of Purgatory and the Nativity Grotto, a replica resembling the natural cave exactly as it exists now in Bethlehem. If you visit the Monastery, I would certainly recommend taking a look at the Catacombs; just be sure to wait for the tour, especially if you bring small children (or a 23-year-old phobic like me who is still inexplicably scared of the dark).

Back outside and behind the church is the Valley, my favorite part of the grounds. Situated at the bottom of a rocky hill, the Valley is home to replicas of several famous shrines in the Holy Land, including the Grotto at the Garden of Gethsemane and the Tomb of Mary. The Valley is thickly wooded, and its foliage seems to blossom in sporadic, wild freedom, a far cry from the carefully tilled upper garden at the front of the church. And it practically screams at you to relax. The Valley is made up of meandering walkways interrupted by secluded benches arranged in the shade of ages-old pine and maple trees, encouraging visitors to sit, think, relax, reflect.

My favorite bench looks out over a plush green meadow, punctuated by thoughtfully placed birdhouses. For hours I watched the soft breeze rustle the knee-high grass, and studied three meticulous birds carry twig after twig into their small wooden home. I remember smiling and thinking that the meadow seemed somewhat out of place, like it belonged somewhere in the Kansas countryside rather than within the congested, polluted limits of a major U.S. city.

But I guess that’s what makes the Franciscan Monastery an ideal urban retreat. Its breathtaking gardens and European-inspired architecture seem unconventional, almost whimsical in a city built from stone and marble. And as much as I enjoy the ebb and flow of downtown living, the Monastery is my escape – if only temporary – from the hectic waves of unpredictability that often come with it.

About the author
Emily Leaman is 23-year-old aspiring writer who has lived in Washington, D.C. for almost two years. In addition to contributing to DCGuide.com and other local publications, she maintains a personal blog here: http://paper-white.blogspot.com/ Emily lives in Logan Circle with her husband, Chris, and her one-year-old puppy, Scout.

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