One autumn while living at the rectory of the parish of San Fabiano in Arezzo I became part of a new — at least for me — Catholic holy day celebration. On the first Sunday of October, the parish priest, my cousin Don Francesco, held a ceremony at his small parish of about 200 souls honoring the Blessed Virgin Mary. Members of the parish carry a statue of the Virgin outside and then completely around the tiny church while reciting the rosary. This is followed by a buffet of sweets, cakes, donuts, and panna cotta. I was able to add to my pantry in the rectory kitchen after the celebration. This, though is a minor celebration compared to most holy festivals.
Like the Blessed Virgin walk-around, Catholic traditions are rooted strongly in Italian culture regardless of occupation, political beliefs, religious beliefs, or age. Everyone participates in the regularly scheduled festivals and corresponding days off work. This does not mean that everyone is religious on a daily basis and goes to church every Sunday. Far from it. I’ve noticed that the young — anyone under 70 — doesn’t see the inside of a church except on special days, most involving children. These sacred events celebrate different passages in a child’s and an adult’s life and always culminate in a meal.
The first holiday, obviously, is the baptism of the newborn. Parents, grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles, and close friends all forget about their usual nonattendance and crowd into a church for the baptism. They are all elegantly dressed in their best finery. As an incentive for attendance, there follows an afternoon, the whole afternoon, of wine and food for all the friends and family.
Grander than the baptism is the child’s first communion around the age of seven. The church is decorated with flowers, red carpets in the aisles, and lots of candles or special lighting. The family and guests wear suits and elegant dresses, some a bit low cut for church. The young girls dress chastely in white frilly dresses and the boys in white suits and ties. Following the mass is a large reception at a restaurant or a place where a four course meal is catered. The party goes on for hours, only stopping when the wine and food run out — it would be rude to leave earlier.
I discovered one Sunday morning as I went down from my bedroom to the church for mass that the first communion celebration was not the end of the communion celebration. I walked into church and there were three chairs in front of the altar and eventually three girls arrived and sat in the chairs. They were dressed informally in jeans and T-shirts sparkling with glitter and I recognized them as the girls who were in white dresses the week before for their first communion. Now they were celebrating their second communion, though on a much smaller scale involving only immediate family. The parents and a few of the closest relatives were also there. After mass there was a small meal for the family.
The next festival is Confirmation, bigger than the First Holy Communion. For this, a hall or large room is rented or reserved at a restaurant and the meal is catered. It’s a sit-down meal including antipasti, primi, secondi, contorni, and dolce courses along with wine and digestivi. I witnessed one Confirmation party go on for eight hours before everyone seemed to wind down in late evening and head for their cars to go home.
Finally, is the grandest of all, a wedding. There are no small weddings in Italy. Family weddings include near and distant relatives, coworkers, friends, and friends of friends. The more the merrier. It doesn’t matter if you are on speaking terms or whether you even personally know the groom or bride. A wedding must eat up a lifetime of savings and probably involves a sizable chunk of borrowed money. The celebration includes the catered meal, music, and dancing and goes from late morning to late in the evening — or, perhaps it’s better to say, early morning.
The life stages celebrations are special, but there are also regular celebrations that mark passages within the church calendar including Christmas, New Year’s Day, Ash Wednesday, Good Friday, Easter, the feast of Saints Peter and Paul, the Assumption, and All Saints Day, to name a few. Also included are minor celebrations including the feast day of your saint’s name, such as Francesco, Margherita, Giovanni, Caterina, or Pietro. These festivals bring a few more people into church, but not many. Their importance lies in that they are opportunities for a family celebration meal and a day off work.
The Virgin Mary walk on the first Sunday in October is special only to the parish of San Fabiano. I’d been away from the rectory since morning and returned to the rectory in the early afternoon to find most of the eight parking places taken, but found a small place in the yard over the well. I noticed a small group of people in the church and decided to join them to see what was happening.
The ceremony began when a few tall men in the group removed the heavy four-foot high statue of Mary holding a rosary from its niche over one of the side altars in the nave. The men placed it on a double tiered box, much like a statue atop a wedding cake. The “cake” is made up of a bottom box about 3’ X 3’. The one sitting upon bottom box is about 2’ X 2’. The statue stands balanced precariously on a short vertical post. The bottom “cake” box has square holes, two in the front and two in the back through which two long poles are slipped. Four people grasped the poles — two in the front and two in the back — to carry the heavy platform with its statue. The statue was in constant danger of toppling so a person walked alongside the platform holding the statue of the Virgin Mary steady as the four people holding the poles began their walk.
It was an unusual procession that included two kids about 10 years old, a young woman, and eleven others on the far side of 70 (three men and eight women) — led by the 90 year old pastor, Don Francesco. A man with a tall crucifix on a long pole led the procession. Don Francesco, following the crucifix, hobbled along leading the rosary in a gold vestment so faded it looked yellow with his grey driving hat on over his thin silver hair to keep his head warm. The pole carriers were occasionally relieved by others, both men and women. I took my turn trying to hold the platform flat, but I was taller than the other three and had to bend over to keep it level.
We exited the church and turned right, entering an olive grove below and in front of the church and followed an old tractor path that passed by a newly built estate, then turned right again to walk around the rear of the parish on the estate’s driveway. The driveway ended on the street that runs next to the parish. While walking on the street next to San Fabiano’s side wall we met one car that we moved over to let go by, but a van had to wait for us to walk a short 60-feet and turn back into the church grounds. Don Francesco finished the rosary in the church and then followed with long solemn Mass, which, like a good Italian under 70, I missed.
Following Mass I left my living quarters above the church and walked down the steps to the church’s meeting room to partake of the snacks brought by the women of the church including crostini, cakes, and my favorite, panna cotta. The most popular dish was homemade cake doughnuts, just like home. I noticed that I wasn’t the only one scarfing down doughnuts, for they all disappeared before any of the other sweets. As the celebration wound down I started raiding the left overs, taking them bit-by-bit —unobtrusively — upstairs to my refrigerator — including most of the panna cotta.
With all the festivals and holy days everyone has a chance to be Catholic once in the while. It’s part of being in Italy.
