Sunday 20th September, the bells rang out over the mountains at Renaio, as we celebrated Sante Quarantore. In Christianity the “Forty Hours” representing the length of time spent by Jesus Christ in his death, from the Friday afternoon up until his resurrection Sunday morning.
Each year around this time Sante Quarantore is celebrated at Renaio, we are extremely fortunate to be able to spend this time with Diana and her family and Don Colli the local priest. We had one of those Italian big festival dinners, which lasted for at least three hours, and we ate and ate and then ate some more.
I had actually forgotten that there was a festival today so arrived in my normal work about the house clothes (which is “ok” for any other Sunday), but I did look rather out of place as everyone else was dressed for the occasion, all of the ladies looked very elegant and chic.
The priest hadn’t arrived yet, so I made a quick dash back to the house to put my “Sunday Best” outfit on. The fast ride down the lane was a little jerky in our old car but I knew I would be pressed for time, as it was, I made it back to the house, changed, sprayed myself with a good dousing of Coco Channel, before turning my drive into a private off road racing track.
I don’t know exactly how many minutes it took, but I arrived back sparkling like a new penny, fit to meet the Queen or in this instance the priest. Having Patrick staying with us (he is Siciliano) and a conversation on religion and the role of the priest, I was educated to see the importance of the priests role in the Italian family life.
Not only is he a religious/spiritual teacher to the children and adults alike, he takes their confessions, he is their first port of call in any storm, he understands each and everyone of his parishioners, he can be their counselor, friend and often the first, and in many instances the only person they will openly share their problems and woes with, knowing there is no judgment and that it will go no further.
Don Colli is exceptional, not only for his length of service to the community, (I think he said 73 years) but he is the local priest for Tiglio, Pegnanna, Renaio, there is also one other post but I am sorry as I cannot remember its name, and up to a few months ago, Montebono.
His day had started really early and he had already performed two baptisms. He is much loved by us all and we consider ourselves privileged to have him as our parish priest. He goes out of his way to make me feel both welcome and apart of the community.
Even before dinner had finished three of the men left the table and as we left the house we could hear the music radiating from the bell tower. This was not just a “ding” “dong”, it was music weaving its way across the valley calling us all to church.
The short stroll from the house to the church opened my heart as granddaughters took the arms of grandmothers to help them up the gradual incline and later would take the role again as we walked to the cemetery for a short service and blessing with their dearly departed, I was there for the English couple laid to rest who represented for me all of those that I love but have passed through the veil.
But just before that a short mass, the church looked great, as always Diana and her friends had done a wonderful job with the flowers. I have been to a few of the churches in the area and I am not just saying this because it is my local church, but because it is true, each week the altar is dressed with the most amazing display of flowers.
This time they were all white with the exception of a couple of baby pink irises, mixed in with the white roses, white irises and white meadow rue. The church looked spectacular and was filled to overflowing.
I didn’t understand the whole of the service but I had a very strong feeling of immense gratitude and thankfulness, which in many ways made me feel very humble, as did the walk to the cemetery and the service there.
One of the things that I love about Italy is the pictures of the dearly departed incorporated within the gravestones, its great being able to put a face to the name and for me is a very moving experience before heading back to the church for a longer version of mass.
Most of the gentry then piled back into Diana’s house for coffee, a small glass of wine, water and or cake. It is a great time for them all to catch up with each other and the room is a buzz with the sounds of happy chatter. I was amazed at how they heard themselves speak as more than one conversation was taking place at anytime, it was really difficult for me to keep up.
The celebrations were by no means complete they still the evening dinner to look forward to, but for me there was absolutely no way that I could have eaten another thing. Basta!
At the cemetery tears welled up as my thoughts went to my son, Edna, Dad, My grandmothers, grandfather, Mr Blue, Windsor and all of those that have passed over, too many to name individually but who are always in my heart. It was good to have this opportunity to openly think about them in a healthy and happy way.
As is the Italian culture this event was very ritualistic almost theatrical, and the very varied superstitious and beliefs the surround the departed was superseded by this time to celebrate and remember their loved ones, one of those rare occasions when it is acceptable to think of them without the fear of bring them back to earth.
Article by Sensone