FAMILY OR NOT, HERE WE COME!
Once in Sambiase, it was time to try another climb up John’s family tree.
The dreary rainy day may have foretold what was next. At the 1970’s style gargantuan Soviet-style municipio (city hall) building we had a challenging experience with a civil servant who would not look up when we entered his narrow cluttered gray office. Then, he said he did not know English and refused to use a translator app so we could communicate, citing, “Solo Italiano!” After some wrangling, he wrote down the wrong (!) birth date of John’s great grandfather and vaguely told us to come back the next MONTH (we do know a little Italian). At that point, using English, Laura asked him his name. No answer. She repeated herself. Finally, somewhat startled, he said accusingly, “you want to know my name” – in perfect English!!! He mumbled that he was Vasco. Poor soul.
Later we euphemistically told the engaging civil servant who had warmly greeted us upon our arrival that we had had a ‘bad communication’ and could someone else assist us. She nodded and took us to another records office for help. It was fascinating to observe the bureaucracy. After many minutes of three ladies consulting and gesticulating in Italian it was determined that – surprise! — we need to fill out a form. Aha! They smiled brightly at us. See, we have come to a solution for you. When we asked which form, no one seemed to know, and it was back to the group huddle. Finally, a form was procured, and John filled it out. The results of their efforts would take a day or two, and we could check back.
On to more records searching. This time of the baptismal kind. At the first church, the priest told us that his church was only 100 years old, so we needed the matrice (the mother church) called San Francesco di Paola. Unfortunately, the matrice office was closed that day. Tomorrow’s agenda was shaping up nicely!
Walking down the street, John spied “Pasticceria Pino Ruberto” and we went in. Had we stumbled upon a connection? They were very welcoming! Husband, wife, and daughter all worked there. Hugs and smiles and a place of honor at the back table for a linguistically-strained chat over some yummy treats ensued. Could they be the link to great grandfather Pasquale Ruberto? Perhaps if we came back tomorrow the uncle could sketch out a family tree.
Thus, our lunch at Old Wild West in a nearby mall was hopeful. And the hamburger joint, with its fun American atmosphere and great wings and burgers, was fast becoming a favorite in between all the pastas and pizzas.
It was back to the Ruberto bakery in the morning to get sweets to grease the municipio wheels and to say grazie. But this time, the reception was lukewarm at best. While the baker’s daughter mentioned that she might be visiting the U.S. and the wife packed up our pastries with care and ribbons, there was no mention of family ties. The baker himself was distant. No family historian uncle was called. Who knows what had transpired overnight?
On to the very chilly chiesa madre office where be-speckled Dom Ivano Scalise, O.M. worked. He shyly took the sweets with a surprised little smile as John explained our purpose. After stepping out for several minutes he returned with ancient tomes, thick as an old phone book. He commenced looking up Pasquale Ruberto in the crumbling and meticulously-kept baptism records. Watching his gnarly fingers peeking out from worn-out cotton half-gloves as they carefully travelled up and down each page of Latin writing was hypnotizing; we all kept thinking the NEXT name could be Pasquale. Alas, it was not so. He was thorough, and we were a bit deflated.
Before we left, he shared about the amazing namesake of the church, St. Francis of Paola, and gave us a prayer card. He is the patron saint of Calabria and of travelers and mariners, among others. A miraculous event that allowed this “other St. Francis” to cross the Straits of Messina on his cloak even inspired a work by composer Franz Liszt! Grazie for your time, kind Dom!
A seafood lunch at the wildly decorated “@ Mare” was a tasty break from the family quest.
We visited the churches of Immacolata (a Calabrian Baroque gem) and Annuziata (Arab-Moorish style) before returning to the municipio to give them the sweets. Yes, even, and especially to the puzzled Vasco. (If you’re hurtful on the outside, it’s because you’re hurting on the inside.) It was not good news from our female trio of researchers – they regretted that they had no birth record of Pasquale.
And just like that, one chapter quietly closed and another opened — off to Salerno!
A TALE OF TWO APOSTLES
We went to Mass at the Salerno duomo first and then down below to visit and pray before St. Matthew’s relics in the sensational crypt. The pillars, walls and floors are of inlaid marble, and the multi-arched ceiling and capitals (pillar tops) are adorned with fetching fancy frescoes of Jesus’ life from Matthew’s Gospel. A treasure in memory of the city’s patron whose intercession protected the city from the Turkish pirate Barbarossa 500 years ago, the tomb is capped off by a handsome bronze statue of the saint fashioned by Naccherino, a student of Michelangelo. This place is like no other.
Hearing Christmas music waft our way, we ventured next door. We had stumbled upon an extensive life-size nativity display with magnificent renderings. The Italians love their nativities!
Our apartment here was on the water, dotted with rows of small colorful fishing boats. (A gregarious Indonesian couple from Holland — Arnold and Angel – had rented the adjoining place.) On this rainy afternoon, we watched the stormy surf pounding against the rocks out of the kitchen window. It was captivating and romantic – from inside! Another day, in better weather, we did enjoy walking a couple of miles up the coast. On the way back we stopped for fresh fruit and vegetables at the neighborhood greengrocer.
A day trip took us to Amalfi, the town, to venerate the relics of St. Andrew in the cathedral. (If you are sensing a theme here, yes, we would like to visit the tombs of all of the apostles.) The exterior has layered marble and stone stripes, which, along with green and yellow majolica tiles, graceful lacey Moorish arches and a crowning colorful mosaic make for an imposing and inviting facade. We climbed the grand six-story-tall stairway, passed the decorated 1000-year-old bronze doors, and down the “Corridor of Paradise” to enter the cathedral complex. The Basilica of the Crucifix has a diocesan museum, another incredibly intricately-frescoed crypt (like St. Matthew’s) with a bronze statue of the saint (also done by Michelangelo’s pupil), and the well-named “Cloister of Paradise” with its Arabic-style garden. We prayed for everyone aloud at the crypt.
As if all this wasn’t enough, a fascinating miracle has been taking place here for over seven centuries. The “rite of the manna” occurs when St. Andrew’s tomb exudes a substance that is said to have miraculous properties. (This article about the church includes a bit on the miracle.)
Our post-visit lunch was at Antica Trattoria Barraca because Papa, the owner, recruited us on the alley off the duomo plaza. It seemed this sweet pensioner had an “act” going. As he saw tourists wander around he would approach them and ask if they would like a restaurant recommendation. Yes? Well, it just happened that his daughter ran the place around the corner. He could walk with us there. (And we did enjoy our pasta ragu and lasagna.) When we left we saw Papa using the exact same lines on some more visitors. A master marketer.
POSITANO POSTCARD
On to Positano, a fishing village with stacked colorful houses that has become a tourist destination. (John Steinbeck helped it become popular after he stayed here and wrote about it in the 1950s. It has featured in famous films and is a destination wedding site as well.) It is called “città verticale” for a reason as it is indeed vertically situated in the peaks of the Lattari Mountains overlooking the Tyrrehenian Sea. Our time here was probably different than most as it was clearly off season, and the residents were prepping for spring and summer. They were wonderful hosts, nonetheless.
We first visited two churches — Chiesa del Santo Rosario (the seat of Dominican monks in the 17th century) and Santa Maria Assunta (with Benedictine origins from the 10th century). The latter church contains a “Black Madonna” painting brought here by Saracen pirates who had stolen it. Terrified of capsizing due to stormy conditions, they heard the painting speak, “Posa, posa” or “Put down.” Heeding the command, they landed, and the weather instantly calmed. The buccaneers converted to Christianity, and this place took its name after the Virgin’s saving words.
When we asked a local about a restaurant idea he smiled and said in English (they are used to tourists here) that the one on the water might be open. So, we walked “all the way down” to the beach to the only open restaurant called “Blu Bar” for sandwiches. It was us and a handful of folks enjoying the large deck and beach area which would be completed packed in a few months. And would you believe these varied sights as we came down the mountain? — Burros (!) doing work for a construction crew, a rock wall with small buildings carved right into it, people preparing for the Christmas parade, and many lovely high-end shops? After eating, we gingerly walked a-ways down the stone-y Spiaggia Grande beach, our feet crunching unevenly with each step, and sat on large rocks in the sun before heading back up.
It was tricky to find our new home, as the GPS does not like Positano’s nooks, crannies, and doglegs. When we were near Casa Maria Grazia, the elderly (meaning probably our age) owner met us to show us to the parking area. Parking is at a premium here, and you must have the key to remove the post that blocks the tiny spot assigned to the accommodation. He then showed us to our place and asked us our order for collazione, even offering omelets (!). The room had a balcony overlooking the town, church, and water (tremendous!). As sunset faded into dark it was mesmerizing to take in the sea and stars.
Our host, “the old man” as we fondly thought of him, personally laid out a bountiful breakfast of fried eggs, tomatoes, mozzarella, cornetti, fruit, yogurt, coffee, and the like on our dining table. He knocked and then let himself in, so we were grateful we had a door in between the rooms!
We walked around – well, up and down! — Positano and then up to the hamlet of Montepertuso to Parrocchia di Santa Maria Delle Grazie (with a school and small soccer area abutting the church) — it’s the church we can see from our balcony and the namesake of our B&B. While our attempt to venture again down down down the innumerable steps toward the “centro” of Positano was thwarted when it began to rain (what do you expect in winter?), it was a treat to have the “pearl of the Amalfi coast” more or less to ourselves.
TO NAPOLI (AGAIN) WITH LOVE
Visiting the city of Napoli for a second time was all about second chances, and the city did not disappoint. Our memory was of a gritty less-than-beautiful place full of rowdy soccer (er, football) fans. But this time, we had a mission and a couple of days. The first stop was lunch at the famous L’Antica Pizzeria da Michele (finally!). Last time, the line here was so long we went elsewhere. On this day, the rain probably was in our favor as it limited the crowds a touch but seeing the tiny “take away” sign was what speeded up the experience considerably, and soon we were eating Margherita pizza standing outside at a partially covered table dodging raindrops in between bites of crispy tomato-y goodness.
Of course, food was not our mission. It was to see the miracle of the liquefaction of San Gennaro’s (also called Januarius) blood. Yes, a strange phenomenon to say the least. Three times each year — on the saint’s feast day (9/19), on the first Saturday in May and on the anniversary of the eruption of Mount Vesuvius (12/16/1631) – a vial of the saint’s blood is taken from its reliquary and watched. By everyone. Television crews, podcasters, the faithful, and the curious. From the locals to the pilgrims like us, everyone watches expectantly hoping to see the “melting” which now, in December, commemorates the time the blood liquefication stopped the volcano from destroying Naples.
First though, was Sunday Mass at the duomo in the Chapel of the Treasure of San Gennaro with its shining silver statues of San Gennaro, St. Rita and others. We visited the whole church including the crypt with San Gennaro’s relics. Later, sunshine backlit the lustrous chapel – brilliant!
After coffee and sweet sfogliatelle with ricotta at Gran Caffè Doucement S’Arrêter, we walked to San Gregorio Armeno Monastery and church where St. Patrizia’s body is.
Chiesa dei Santi Filippo e Giacomo is in the city’s heart. Built in 1593 as requested by the artisans and merchants of the Silk Guild, it is a transformed former palace that boasts exterior statues of its namesake saints sculpted by 18th century virtuoso Giuseppe Sanmartino.
We walked along the renowned Via San Gregorio Armeno with all the presepe (nativity scenes) and shops — and also lots of superstitious stuff like horns and shaman-type characters with incantations. Families were out in numbers searching for that additional piece to complement their home nativities and just be in the crowded mix of Christmas-is-coming cheer. While street food was everywhere, we opted for a memorable lunch in cozy, quaint and quiet O’Cerriglio Domus restaurant (with a glass floor to showcase its ancient underpinnings) on nearby Via San Biagio dei Librai.
The streets were a lively river flowing with people and music, and we waded through to poke our heads in Purgatorio church before it closed. It seemed to be an art installation guarded by some friendly-enough though tough-looking characters. The ominous brass skulls and bones on the posts outside made you hope your own purgatory would be brief!
Perhaps relatedly, that evening when John tried the popular folded pizza, called portafoglio or wallet pizza, at A Puteca D’a Pizza he chose diavola (spicy “devil” style). The judgement – delicioso!
That night our host texted to let us know a San Gennaro procession was going on! We eagerly got dressed and ran down to the duomo to join dozens gathered outside. The street was blocked off from cars. A youthful band in matching blue sweatshirts played enthusiastically on the church steps, whipping up the faithful and passersby alike. The highlight was when the grand metal figure of San Gennaro complete with a mitre was hoisted up on the shoulders of volunteers and carried through the city. All traffic was stopped at intersections. Songs and chants rang out. May the blood “melt” one more time! Per favore San Gennaro!
The next day it was up and out to the duomo where they were removing the vial of San Gennaro’s blood hoping for the December miracle. We crowded into the chapel, along with professional photographers and camera crews, police, military academy, families, and tourists. There were elderly ladies praying and chanting in the front, begging San Gennaro to be our protector. More than your average pious “church ladies,” we learned much later that they are in fact parenti or descendants of Eusebia, the saint’s nurse who collected his blood when he was decapitated centuries ago.
When we were waiting for Mass there to begin, John spied a religious sister standing, and so it was in him in offering her his seat that we met the dear Sr. Cristiana. A Napoli native who served all over the world for decades with The Daughters of St. Paul religious order, she was thrilled to be experiencing the miracle for the first time in her life.
Curiously, the blood of San Gennaro respects the Italian tradition of pennichella (nap) where shops, offices, and even churches close up for the early afternoon. The Bishop declared the ceremony on pause at 1 pm.
Coffeetime it was — at Gran Caffè San Gennaro, where Laura got Graffe Napoletane (a great fluffy donut) and John enjoyed a pistachio-filled double layer cookie. Miracle hunters must stay fortified! Then it was back to chapel to check on the blood liquefaction. (Not yet!)
More fortifications came at Antica Pizzeria dell’Angelo. Imagine a sour cream basil cheese mushroom pizza with ham pate stuffed crust and a prosciutto and cheese stuffed pizza (called ripiena), together totaling $15! Our uneaten still-warm slices together made another meal, and one of the many homeless folks here was the beneficiary.
Our next stop was Sansevero Museum chapel to see the “Veiled Christ” sculpture by our artist “friend” Sanmartino. Though it is no longer a religious chapel, there is an atmosphere of quiet reverence. The admission is timed to limit the number of visitors, and photography is prohibited, which forces you to simply behold all the incredible sculptures here. The Veiled Christ is roped off in the center of the small space. What an impossibly extraordinary work it is! Both the conception and the execution! The marble mesmerizes you and won’t let go as you make your way around. Somehow the ‘gauze’ covering the life-size depiction of Christ’s body and face appears transparent, yet it was all carved from the same marble block. Miracolo di marmo!
(photo credit: Creative Commons)
(Five photos credit: Museo San Severo, with paid admission)
After that artful afternoon, the church opened again at 4 pm, and it was time to check on the blood liquefication… We were there praying and watching in the chapel for half an hour… with the minor-key accompaniment of the parenti chanters growing to a crescendo and fading back down again. And then the miracle happened, right before our eyes!!! Awesome! The cheers! The tears! One of the parenti even fainted! (She was fine.) San Gennaro, pray for us!
Before the miracle (blood held upside down is solid). After the miracle (blood has liquefied).
Exhilarated from the miracle and on John’s mom’s recommendation, that evening we went to St. Giuseppe dei Vecchi e Immacolata di Lourdes church to see Servant of God Don Dolindo’s resting place. Don Dolindo Ruotolo, an Italian priest, mystic and stigmatist, gave us the powerful Surrender Novena, a short 9-day prayer. On this crystal-clear night, we traipsed up through an “iffy” old neighborhood with lots of stairs, smells, strange tongues, and stray cats. At the top, the plain-on-the outside-ornate-in-the inside church was ablaze for Mass. We prayed for everyone at the holy man’s tomb.
Back down the stairs we went through what can only be described as the “bookstore neighborhood” off of Piazza Dante. There were bins with books of all kinds beneath a brightly-lit underpass among other literary shops. After browsing, we went to a 40’s-style American jazz-playing bookstore bar called Libreria Berisio for aperitivo. It was an elegant hip hangout, and though we didn’t exactly dress the part or fit the demographic, we enjoyed classic and original cocktails and conversation surrounded by gleaming dark wood and all those beautiful books.
Back in our neighborhood, we looked for a “cuopo” place. The Italian street food cuopo is a paper cone filled with lightly fried fish or vegetables. A small strong voice behind us said in English, “are you looking for good pizza?” We started talking and met the delightful Francesca, an American with Italian roots, who was visiting Naples from Basilicata to see the San Gennaro miracle. As we sat outside at a tiny table enjoying crispy cuopo with this kindred soul, it seemed a confirmation that the second time was clearly a charm for us in Napoli!
PAX TECUM FILOMENA
Mugnano del Cardinale was our destination the following morning to visit the 400-year-old Santuário di Santa Filomena. Among other causes, Santa Filomena (St. Philomena) is the patroness of infants, children, struggling young people, and hopeless situations. As well, she is known for her miracles. In 1802, the remains of this holy 13-year-old Corfiot princess were found in the Catacombs of St. Priscilla in Rome along with three funeral tiles that read, “Pax Tecum Filumena” (Peace be with you, Philomena). The palm branch, lily, and arrows on the tiles indicate her martyrdom at the hands of the Roman Emperor Diocletian in the third century. Details of her story, which had been lost for 15 centuries, were mysteriously revealed over time. A papier-mâché figure of the miracle-worker saint, dressed in blue and gold silk brocade, is entombed in glass in a recessed niche over an altar, her long dark hair flowing.
Also in this church is a reliquary wall of martyrs and saints such as: St. John Vianney (who had a devotion the St. Filomena), St. Justin Martyr, St. Christine, St. Anthony of Padua, St. Vincent de Paul, St. Anne (mother of the Blessed Virgin), St. Sebastian, St. Perpetua, St. Cyprian of Carthage, St. Alphonsus Ligouri, Pope St. Fabian and Pope St. Boniface. There are many other statues, paintings, frescoes, and altars besides. It is a place of tranquility and hope.
HUMBLE BEGINNINGS
Speaking of hope, “Pray, hope, and don’t worry” was the famous counsel of dear St. Padre Pio, the Italian Capuchin friar, priest, mystic and stigmatist, whose hometown was just an hour away in Pietrelcina. We would make our way there through the Apennine mountains.
On arrival we had an uncommonly good lunch at Trattoria Cera una Volta (Once Upon A Time), with the fabulous, caring, and heavily-tattooed owner Angelo. Admittedly, when someone’s hands and neck are completely tatted it could be bit unappetizing, but not to worry. We took his every suggestion (there was no menu) and enjoyed “verdura rustica” (eggplant with other vegetables served in slices sort of like a perfect thick quiche), fancy caprese salad, lamb chops for John, and meatball soup for Laura. This was accompanied by a savory Campania wine called Aglianico. Angelo’s last excellent recommendation was a rum baba cake (with an added creamy layer) to share. The food is enhanced by the rustic restaurant’s natural stone walls filled to the top of their arches with antiques, black and white photos, and yellowing newspaper clippings.
Thus nourished, we drove just outside of town to Masseria Fontana dei Fieri (Farmhouse Fountain of the Proud) the lovely agriturismo that was our home for the next two nights. Walking around town the next day, we visited Casa Natale, the birthplace of St. Pio whose given name was Francesco Forgione. Next door is the wee Church of St. Anne where he received his baptism, first communion and confirmation. A side altar holds relics of San Pio Martire (St. Pius the Martyr) who was Padre Pio’s inspiration for his religious name. It is a humble sacred space seemingly unchanged by time. We also went to some of the places that he prayed, such as the Via Del Rosario.
Along the way, the narrow twisting paths were strewn with bits of hay, part of Pietrelcina’s preparations for the annual living nativity, and the traditional town nativity was one of the stops as we walked the sign-posted “Il Cammino de Fede” (Faith Walk). The view from the saint’s neighborhood is over fields and forests, and it is documented that he meditated in the natural beauty here.
We next explored the museum dedicated to Padre Pio’s life and the Church of the Holy Family (housing the only relic of the saint outside of San Giovanni Rotundo); both adjacent to the Capuchin Convent. Exiting the church, we saw the tomb of another holy monk, Fra. Modestino, a spiritual son of St. Pio who is on his own path to beatification. What a fitting way to end our time following the saint’s footsteps and another proof of his influence long beyond the grave.
TIBER ISLAND TREASURE
After a bucolic respite with Padre Pio, it was on to The Eternal City! We scored parking right outside our apartment Dimora Malatesta, three blocks from the rear of the Vatican. Across the square, the nativity at Santa Maria delle Grazie al Trionfale church was calling. We got there to find Adoration going on. A blessed start to Rome time!
The following day, we took a long and wonderful walk along the Tiber River to the 1,000-year-old Basilica of St. Bartholomew on Tiber Island. Along with being able to venerate St. Bartholomew at his tomb (another Apostle!) and also St. Adalbert of Prague, we were able to pray at the six chapels here dedicated to martyrs of the 20th and 21st centuries. A “Commission of New Martyrs” had been initiated by Pope St. John Paul II in preparation for the 2000 Jubilee and over 13,000 testimonies and relics of those martyred due to Nazism, Communism, Totalitarianism and anti-Christian persecution were gathered and documented. They include St. Maximilian Kolbe, Bl. Jerzy Popieluszko, Bl. Stanley Rother, Fr. Jacques Hamel. The martyrs honored are not only Catholic, but also Orthodox (Fr. Alexander Men), Anglican, and Protestant (Pastor Paul Schneider). Reflecting on these horrific deaths here in this sacred place was terribly sad and moving.
FORUM TIMES TWO AND APOSTLES, TOO
Leaving this one-of-a-kind island, we soon were walking by the glorious Roman Forum ruins on Capitoline Hill and then admiring the imposing marble marvel called Vittorio Emanuele II (Vittoriano). A neoclassical interpretation of the Forum, this national monument honors the first king of the unified Italy and is the symbolic center of Rome. The 50-ton bronze statue of the king (sporting a three-foot-long mustache!) on horseback seemed to be protecting all the Italian families and tourists in his shadow.
After lunch it was time for two more apostles. The remains of Sts. Philip and James the Lesser are in the crypt of the Basilica dei Santi XII Apostoli (Twelve Holy Apostles). (We prayed for all the intercessions on our list here.)
THE ORIGINAL SANTA MONICA
We passed Trevi Fountain, looking sharp and bright after its recent cleaning, on our way to the Renaissance-era Sant’Agostino church and St. Monica’s tomb. This was a high point of our pilgrimage. Of the hundreds of prayer requests we have with us; many are on behalf of loved ones who have no faith or who have left the faith just as Monica’s son Augustine did. And as Monica did 17 centuries ago, we prayed for each of those souls to return. May God see fit to grant these requests as he did for Monica and Augustine.
On the way to the metro, we walked through the fancy part of city including by the celebrated Spanish Steps, extra-lovely lit-up at night. This made seven miles of walking on our first day. One of the best things about Rome!
MOUNTAINS OF FOUNTAINS AND CARAVAGGIOS
Speaking of walking, it was time to return our lil’ blue Clio car to Hertz at Termini Train Station. (Note for anyone attempting this, your GPS is not the best for accessing the rental return location.) That done, we decided to eat lunch at EATALY. We had been to one in Las Vegas with several restaurants, cafes, and delis and were surprised to see a smaller version (just one eatery!) here. Their rosemary focaccia – Mmm!
We walked through Piazza del Popolo and visited the Renaissance church of Santa Maria del Popolo. The Cerasi Chapel there has two paintings by Baroque master Caravaggio: “The Conversion on the Way to Damascus” and the “Crucifixion of Saint Peter.” Piazza Navona was next. (Of note, each of these piazzas has three (!) fantastic fountains.) While the Navona Christmas Market left a bit to be desired as it has scaled down in recent years, the “hall church” called Santuario di Nostra Signora del Sacro Cuore di Gesù did not. Rounding out the trio of churches was the sumptuous San Luigi dei Francesi and a trio of Caravaggios in the Contarini Chapel there: “The Calling of St. Matthew,” “The Inspiration of St. Matthew,” and “The Martyrdom of St. Matthew.”
MORE ART, MORE NAVITIES AND – MUSIC!
The following day we walked to the Vatican but before we could go in, John had to hide his pocketknife in a potted plant (!) as it would not get through security. (This was not the first time he had to do this!) We were let in via the Percorso Oranti (prayer path) escorted by an accommodating volunteer who took us to get our pilgrim passport stamped. We visited all the tombs in the lower level, and the moment we came back up the stairs, we heard the Mass bell. Just in time for Noon Mass at the main altar.
So much to see in St. Peter’s as always: all the amazing altars and artworks, including the Blessed Sacrament Chapel and Adoration, the tomb of Pope St. John Paul II and the Pietà. At this time of year there was also both the indoor and large outdoor Vatican Nativities (presepi).
Looking for lunch, we hit upon Arlù. Highly recommended! Then it was more nativities – 100 in fact – at the Vatican’s annual “100 Presepi” in the Bernini Colonnade (yes, that Bernini!)! Though it was super-crowded, it was worthwhile. Nativity interpretations from all over the globe and many children’s (and adult’s!) faces lit up with the joy of it.
It was Sunday. On the way to Mass, we saw a gargantuan Moses statue with a fountain outside a building. Show stopping. Now, out of all of Rome’s 930+ churches (not counting private chapels!), you may wonder how we decided upon Chiesa di Santa Maria della Vittoria for Mass. Well, this is where the incredible “The Ecstasy of St. Theresa” sculpture by Bernini is installed! First, we would take in the art, and then stay for Mass. St. Teresa is dynamically depicted in bright white Carrara marble as collapsed on a cloud, an angel on her left, with rays of golden light shining down. She is in a state of pure spiritual joy. Somehow, the guitar music played by a trio of religious sisters at Mass, while charming, seemed incongruent with the splendor of the Bernini masterwork.
Afterwards, we stopped at the grand Basilica of Sts. Maria degli Angeli e Dei Marti to see what was inside — wow! There was a gnomon (a time mechanism using an oculus), beautiful altars, and — a free organ concert with Pachelbel, an Ave Maria piece, and the like! The organist prefaced each selection with an explanation, such as the emotion of Mary and Elizabeth greeting each other before playing a piece about the Annunciation. He was the master of the church’s massive pipe organ, and his love for the music was evident.
To Morrison’s Irish Pub for a hamburger lunch – recalling our unusual Easter meal here with John’s mom and Andy in 2023. Then John retrieved his pocketknife from the giant urn where he’d hidden it!
WALKING THROUGH CENTURIES AND SEEING THE LIGHT
The next day we made it to the intriguing antique shop with many lovely religious and other items (Il Mercato dell’Usato/Il Mercatino Della Grazie) ‘round the corner from our apartment. Then it was food shopping for our Christmas Eve and Day at Penny grocery store.
Back out in the afternoon to Santuario della Divina Misericordia, a church rich in pictorial décor that was rebuilt in 1527 after the sack of Rome. A dozen religious sisters waiting to go to Confession made a pretty picture themselves. Now our destination was the tomb of the quiet holy woman Bl. Anna Maria Taigi. We walked to Basilica di S. Crisogono (12th century) to venerate her and unexpectedly discovered the crypt church called Chiesa Paleocristiana (5th century!). For €3 (given to the gatekeeper man who had all but dozed off) we had run of the vast underground excavation and ruins. Only in Roma!
The creepy crypt contrasted with the charming lit-up-for-Christmas Trastevere neighborhood. We stopped by St. Peter’s to see the famous Christmas Tree and Nativity a-glow at night. Bellisimo!
On the way home, we stopped at Chiesa di San Giuseppe alla Lungara — a precious Baroque church dedicated to of course St. Joseph and the Holy Family. Perfect for the “Eve of Christmas Eve!” It houses a Eroi Della Pizza provided our take out dinner of mortadella focaccia sandwich, mini mushroom pizza and ‘nduja (spicy spreadable sausage!) arancini. Six miles of walking makes you hungry!
ETERNAL CITY CHRISTMAS
On Christmas Eve, we headed to Santa Maria Maggiore Basilica to see the oldest known nativity, a relic of the manger of the infant Jesus (!) and to go to Confession in English. Grazie mille, Fr. Miguel.
Christmas Day was here! We went to 10 am Mass at the neo-Gothic Santa Maria del Rosario Church with the Dominican Fathers. The young man accompanying the choir was an outstanding violinist, and one of the songs was “O Holy Night” (Laura’s favorite). At home, Laura put up the miniature glass Nativity from Murano with the dollar store twinkle lights. John cooked Christmas lunch of ravioli and roasted chicken with Italian cauliflower. We cracked the last “Prosecco from Prosecco” and ate chocolate-filled pandoro for dessert. (It was a tough choice of pandoro or panettone – we learned that every Italian has an opinion on this hot topic!) Following the Italian custom, we took a Christmas nap! When in Rome… Later that holy night, some booming noises pierced the city hum. More and more. Nonstop. What? We hurried to the window to see fireworks writing all over the sky. Happy Birthday, Jesus!
HOPE AND HOSPITAL(ITY)
The next day we were up early to get to St. Peter’s Basilica when it opened. We wanted to step through the gigantic Holy Door for the Jubilee. A Jubilee Year in the Catholic Church happens every twenty-five years or so; the span between them has varied. These Years are special. They have a theme (this year’s is Hope) and activities and traditions associated with them. One important tradition is that pilgrims enter the Holy Door. This door is sealed off between Jubilee Years so for most it is a once-in-a-lifetime event. There was a crowd of pilgrims and tourists who all wanted to go through. You are allowed to pass one way only. It was organized joyful chaos. Of course everyone wanted to get a photo of the occasion.
The official Jubilee2025 website tells a bit about the spiritual significance:
“…In crossing the threshold of the Holy Door, the pilgrim is reminded of the passage from Chapter 10 of St John’s Gospel: “I am the door. If anyone enters by me, he will be saved and will go in and out and find pasture.” Passing through the Holy Door expresses the decision to follow and be guided by Jesus, who is the Good Shepherd. The door is a passageway that ushers the pilgrim into the interior of a church. For the Christian community, a church is not only a sacred space, to be approached with respect, with appropriate behavior and dress code, but it is a symbol of the communion that binds every believer to Christ: it is a place of encounter and dialogue, of reconciliation and peace which awaits every pilgrim, the Church is essentially the place of the community of the faithful.
In Rome, this experience takes on a special significance because of the special links between the Eternal City and Saints Peter and Paul, the apostles who founded the Christian community in Rome and whose teachings and example are models for the universal Church. The tombs of Saints Peter and Paul are located in Rome, they were martyred here; and together with the catacombs, these sacred sites are places of continuous spiritual inspiration.”
Interior view of St. Peter’s Basilica Holy Door when sealed over (this is from 2023).
Exterior view of closed Holy Door.
The Holy Door when open (December 26, 2024).
Following the tradition of touching the Holy Door after crossing the threshold.
After entering the Basilica, we got to go to Mass at the front altar again (gratefully, in English). After which, we met the lovely Sr. Angela Marie and Sr. Mary Gianna of the Dominican Sisters of St. Cecilia in Nashville. While they are based in Scotland, that day they were coming from Bocciana, an hour from Rome. These cheerful sisters were most encouraging about our mission and have kept in touch.
There are highs and lows in any journey, and with one day left in Italy, Laura managed to get a minor infection that required medical help. Three hospitals, one urgent care, one taxi, and two pharmacies later, success! We ended up at Spirito Santo Urgent Care created specifically for tourists (!), near the Vatican. The doctor visit took 3 minutes! It was free! The Rx, after a 15-minute wait in line, took less than one minute (no ID needed!) and cost €11.30. Nice. (Later with our stateside Italian friend’s assistance we learned we did not even have a prescription, but the doc had simply written the name and dosage on a medical pad; you can get antibiotics over the counter here.) We tried to eat at a restaurant (where Laura could take her medicine) but gave up before ordering as the “patient” needed to rest. John paid the waiter €10 for the water and bread we’d consumed but he came back telling us his manager told him to return it, and they hoped I felt better. Typical of Italian kindness that has met us at every turn!
After a healing sleep, we were Edinburgh-bound. Arrivederci Roma!
