Easter in Petritoli Le Marche
Posted 04-03-08 at 07:43 PM by jowilliams
EASTER IN PETRITOLI
I was raised as a Christian, neither Catholic nor Protestant. My maternal grandfather was a Minister in the Church of England but my parents believe simply in God, who created everything and then sent his son Jesus to suffer and die for our sins. We were not taken to church. God was everywhere and what was important was believing, and being good, honest, kind, generous etc towards others.
I am now an agnostic.
When I arrived here I did not think highly of Catholicism or the Catholic Church. I have a problem with authority! After 3 years living in a Catholic village, my views may be changing slightly, after all, Catholicism is so much a part of Petritoli and life here.
Thursday
Easter is an important event in Petritoli. The first sign of change is that the schools have closed and suddenly the village is full of children laughing and smiling. The second is the arrival of lots of visitors, as family members return to their home village to celebrate this Festa with loved ones, and foregners visit the area for holidays. As I watch people welcoming and embracing each other I really miss my family.
Good Friday
I continue to miss Wales (not helped by the number of people asking me if I am going home for Easter) and my restlessness finds me walking into the church at midday. I examine the paintings focusing on a series either side of the church depicting scenes from the crucifixion. I always feel relaxed when alone inside churches and today is no different. On my way out, happier, I casually pick up a leaflet on Confession, and head off smiling to the garden of Bar Giardino di Fanny for a glass of wine in the glorious sunshine.
This innocuous leaflet invites me to examine my conscience through a long list of questions. As I slowly read through the list my smile fades. I think that Don Primo (Petritoli's priest) and I need to get into that box and have a long chat!
“Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her.”
Good Friday Evening
At 8.30pm I go out to Crist'El bar to wait for the evening procession. I order a red orange juice (one of Italy's great treats!) and sit reading the newspaper. At 9pm I step outside the bar to find people gathering in the street and the float carrying the statue of Jesus's dead body being prepared outside the church. The village band in its burgandy uniform is gathering together and I find myself smiling again. Within minutes the square is full.
The cross bearers take their place at the head of the procession, followed by two lines of candle bearers between which stand children holding biblical scrolls. Next comes the band followed by a statue of Mother Mary and the priests just in front of Jesus, who is immediately followed by the mayor, representatives of the Carabinieri and finally the hundreds of faithful followers. I feel guilty taking photographs when I should undoubtedly be thinking about the sacrifice that Jesus made on my behalf (I really cannot afford to add to my sin list). Fortunately the band begins to play and the tempo is so perfect that peace returns to my tormented soul once more.
I follow the procession through the village. Extra lights have been put up for the occasion and the yellow bricked buildings take on a new appearance lit up so brightly against the dark sky. I notice how people cross themselves as the procession passes and how natural this simple gesture seems. From the loud speaker the Priest tells us how Jesus was sent from God to die for our sins.
The procession is nearly halted by overhead scaffolding. The cherub above Jesus takes quite a bad knock, spins around, and the float is squeezed over to the left before we can proceed. As we arrive at the Bar Giardino di Fanny I stop and allow the procession to proceed without me. I want to take photographs when it comes back around and I feel the weight of the nonbeliever glow above my head. I sit in the garden with my camera checking the lighting and where best to take pictures from.
That done, I begin to miss the procession. Many italians have told me that they are non practising catholics. What does that mean? I am instead thinking of becoming a practising non-believer! It is so easy to see how the Church, the Catholic Church in particular, is so powerful. Routine and a sense of belonging are incredibly powerful forces. I will have to be very careful not to become a regular church goer!
I hear the procession returning. It halts a short distance away and this time the force and strength of Mary are shared with all, and I begin finally to understand her elevated position in the Catholic Church.
The procession continues once more and, as it passes through the three arches that mark the entrance to this beautiful village, I am struck in the semi-darkness at how this tradition must have been repeated for many years, and I feel briefly transported back in time. I hope that it will continue for many more to come.
The circle of the village is completed and we arrive back at the church where Jesus's body is taken inside and rested. I enter with the crowd and listen once more to how he was sent by God to suffer and die for our sins. I stroll home singing “Calon Lan,” my favourite Welsh Hymn.
Saturday
My day starts with cappuccino in the bar reading the daily newspapers (regular readers will discover that everyday starts in this way). Flicking to the international news my attention is immediately caught by the word “Lampeter.” Lampeter? In the Le Marche Messaggero? Apparently good old Lampeter is focusing on renewable and sustainable energy resources. I wonder for a moment if Conti's Italian ice-cream parlour is still there, and start humming Calon Lan again.
It is a beautiful warm day and whilst I feel hot in a vest the locals appear determined not to let go of their winter coats – they think I am crazy, I think they are crazy. We get by together!
More visitors are arriving and smiling and hugging, but today I am glad that I stayed and enjoy the new energy that this festival brings to Petritoli.
Sunday
Easter Sunday is for family meals. Differences are put aside for the day and generations of the same family lunch together either at home or in the local restaurants.
I am joining some English friends who live outside a nearby village. Whilst the locals are already in their best Sunday best, I am in my best gardening clothes. Gardening is my true passion, my favourite way to relax. My day is spent weeding and dividing plants whilst Murphy hunts for lizards – his favourite italian hobby.
Helen cooks a wonderful Easter dinner, and being a solid yorkshire lass there are endless perfectly cooked yorkshire puddings – what more could I ask for?
I return to Petritoli at 6pm to find the streets full of youngsters finally free from their family lunches. I shower, dress for the evening, descend to the bar, and have a wonderful, if sinful, evening.
Monday
After a long day in front of the computer I go out once more at 9pm to find the procession. It is a lovely warm evening and the procession is waiting for me. This evening we make our way slowly to Chiesa Della Liberta which is set on a hill outside the village. It is a beautiful 40 minute walk listening to the priest through the loud speaker.
Candles line the country lanes, highlighting ancient vines and olive trees. In the distance the flickering lights of hilltop villages twinkle as do the stars in the clear sky above. Fireworks explode in the sky above the church and in my hightened state of awareness I briefly recall Genesis and the winged creatures with their flashing swords guarding the way to Paradise, before pulling myself together and admiring their pretty shapes and colours.
We arrive at the church and after a short pause I start the walk home with a spring in my step.
Tuesday
Easter is not yet over in Petritoli. Every tuesday after Easter there is a festival at the Chiesa Della Liberta. I lunch at the Hotel Roma (excellent inexpensive food) before visiting a couple of nearby farms that are for sale. I am dropped off at the Church where the party is already underway. Wine, food, music and dancing (not me I hasten to add – I only dance after midnight!) – the only way to party in Italy. Children play in the church grounds whilst adults pop in and out of the church to sit, pray and collect their thoughts. Another beautiful example of the unity of the community and of the respect that they have for their history and traditions. Unfortunately I have to leave early to meet somebody and once again I skip back to the village thinking how beautiful Easter in Petritoli is.
www.southernlemarche.com
I was raised as a Christian, neither Catholic nor Protestant. My maternal grandfather was a Minister in the Church of England but my parents believe simply in God, who created everything and then sent his son Jesus to suffer and die for our sins. We were not taken to church. God was everywhere and what was important was believing, and being good, honest, kind, generous etc towards others.
I am now an agnostic.
When I arrived here I did not think highly of Catholicism or the Catholic Church. I have a problem with authority! After 3 years living in a Catholic village, my views may be changing slightly, after all, Catholicism is so much a part of Petritoli and life here.
Thursday
Easter is an important event in Petritoli. The first sign of change is that the schools have closed and suddenly the village is full of children laughing and smiling. The second is the arrival of lots of visitors, as family members return to their home village to celebrate this Festa with loved ones, and foregners visit the area for holidays. As I watch people welcoming and embracing each other I really miss my family.
Good Friday
I continue to miss Wales (not helped by the number of people asking me if I am going home for Easter) and my restlessness finds me walking into the church at midday. I examine the paintings focusing on a series either side of the church depicting scenes from the crucifixion. I always feel relaxed when alone inside churches and today is no different. On my way out, happier, I casually pick up a leaflet on Confession, and head off smiling to the garden of Bar Giardino di Fanny for a glass of wine in the glorious sunshine.
This innocuous leaflet invites me to examine my conscience through a long list of questions. As I slowly read through the list my smile fades. I think that Don Primo (Petritoli's priest) and I need to get into that box and have a long chat!
“Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her.”
Good Friday Evening
At 8.30pm I go out to Crist'El bar to wait for the evening procession. I order a red orange juice (one of Italy's great treats!) and sit reading the newspaper. At 9pm I step outside the bar to find people gathering in the street and the float carrying the statue of Jesus's dead body being prepared outside the church. The village band in its burgandy uniform is gathering together and I find myself smiling again. Within minutes the square is full.
The cross bearers take their place at the head of the procession, followed by two lines of candle bearers between which stand children holding biblical scrolls. Next comes the band followed by a statue of Mother Mary and the priests just in front of Jesus, who is immediately followed by the mayor, representatives of the Carabinieri and finally the hundreds of faithful followers. I feel guilty taking photographs when I should undoubtedly be thinking about the sacrifice that Jesus made on my behalf (I really cannot afford to add to my sin list). Fortunately the band begins to play and the tempo is so perfect that peace returns to my tormented soul once more.
I follow the procession through the village. Extra lights have been put up for the occasion and the yellow bricked buildings take on a new appearance lit up so brightly against the dark sky. I notice how people cross themselves as the procession passes and how natural this simple gesture seems. From the loud speaker the Priest tells us how Jesus was sent from God to die for our sins.
The procession is nearly halted by overhead scaffolding. The cherub above Jesus takes quite a bad knock, spins around, and the float is squeezed over to the left before we can proceed. As we arrive at the Bar Giardino di Fanny I stop and allow the procession to proceed without me. I want to take photographs when it comes back around and I feel the weight of the nonbeliever glow above my head. I sit in the garden with my camera checking the lighting and where best to take pictures from.
That done, I begin to miss the procession. Many italians have told me that they are non practising catholics. What does that mean? I am instead thinking of becoming a practising non-believer! It is so easy to see how the Church, the Catholic Church in particular, is so powerful. Routine and a sense of belonging are incredibly powerful forces. I will have to be very careful not to become a regular church goer!
I hear the procession returning. It halts a short distance away and this time the force and strength of Mary are shared with all, and I begin finally to understand her elevated position in the Catholic Church.
The procession continues once more and, as it passes through the three arches that mark the entrance to this beautiful village, I am struck in the semi-darkness at how this tradition must have been repeated for many years, and I feel briefly transported back in time. I hope that it will continue for many more to come.
The circle of the village is completed and we arrive back at the church where Jesus's body is taken inside and rested. I enter with the crowd and listen once more to how he was sent by God to suffer and die for our sins. I stroll home singing “Calon Lan,” my favourite Welsh Hymn.
Saturday
My day starts with cappuccino in the bar reading the daily newspapers (regular readers will discover that everyday starts in this way). Flicking to the international news my attention is immediately caught by the word “Lampeter.” Lampeter? In the Le Marche Messaggero? Apparently good old Lampeter is focusing on renewable and sustainable energy resources. I wonder for a moment if Conti's Italian ice-cream parlour is still there, and start humming Calon Lan again.
It is a beautiful warm day and whilst I feel hot in a vest the locals appear determined not to let go of their winter coats – they think I am crazy, I think they are crazy. We get by together!
More visitors are arriving and smiling and hugging, but today I am glad that I stayed and enjoy the new energy that this festival brings to Petritoli.
Sunday
Easter Sunday is for family meals. Differences are put aside for the day and generations of the same family lunch together either at home or in the local restaurants.
I am joining some English friends who live outside a nearby village. Whilst the locals are already in their best Sunday best, I am in my best gardening clothes. Gardening is my true passion, my favourite way to relax. My day is spent weeding and dividing plants whilst Murphy hunts for lizards – his favourite italian hobby.
Helen cooks a wonderful Easter dinner, and being a solid yorkshire lass there are endless perfectly cooked yorkshire puddings – what more could I ask for?
I return to Petritoli at 6pm to find the streets full of youngsters finally free from their family lunches. I shower, dress for the evening, descend to the bar, and have a wonderful, if sinful, evening.
Monday
After a long day in front of the computer I go out once more at 9pm to find the procession. It is a lovely warm evening and the procession is waiting for me. This evening we make our way slowly to Chiesa Della Liberta which is set on a hill outside the village. It is a beautiful 40 minute walk listening to the priest through the loud speaker.
Candles line the country lanes, highlighting ancient vines and olive trees. In the distance the flickering lights of hilltop villages twinkle as do the stars in the clear sky above. Fireworks explode in the sky above the church and in my hightened state of awareness I briefly recall Genesis and the winged creatures with their flashing swords guarding the way to Paradise, before pulling myself together and admiring their pretty shapes and colours.
We arrive at the church and after a short pause I start the walk home with a spring in my step.
Tuesday
Easter is not yet over in Petritoli. Every tuesday after Easter there is a festival at the Chiesa Della Liberta. I lunch at the Hotel Roma (excellent inexpensive food) before visiting a couple of nearby farms that are for sale. I am dropped off at the Church where the party is already underway. Wine, food, music and dancing (not me I hasten to add – I only dance after midnight!) – the only way to party in Italy. Children play in the church grounds whilst adults pop in and out of the church to sit, pray and collect their thoughts. Another beautiful example of the unity of the community and of the respect that they have for their history and traditions. Unfortunately I have to leave early to meet somebody and once again I skip back to the village thinking how beautiful Easter in Petritoli is.
www.southernlemarche.com
Total Comments 3
Comments
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Hi Jo - nice description - it took me some time to figure out what a non-practicing Catholic was as well.Posted 04-03-08 at 08:32 PM by ronald
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Hi Jo! I loved your comments and descriptions. I also fully understand your feelings about being part of a strong community united in faith and respect for everyone. And what you describe is what Easter is all about. I look forward to reading more entries from you.Posted 05-03-08 at 10:57 PM by Gala Placidia
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Easter 2008
Jo, your description of last Easter is wonderful. If we weren't already going to be there I would be booking my ticket right now.Posted 19-03-08 at 08:44 PM by ninety
