Day 4 Four Towns in Italy: The Abbey of Montecassino -- My New Spiritual Home; “My Daughter Is a Victim of Satan;” Catholic Cartoons, and An Angel’s Cave.

Day 4 – Three towns on the way to Padre Pio

We leave Rome bright and early, and I make an internal commitment to return as soon as possible.  I am pleased that we get to see some Italian countryside, though, during the 80 mile drive south of Rome. 

The Abbey of Montecassino (St. Benedict’s Abbey)

The Abbey is high up on a beautiful hill.  Driving in a gigantic tour bus up the skinny switch back roads (our bus driver is truly talented), I suddenly smell the air – flowers, grass, trees, clean air, and something else I can’t place – and think, oh, I remember this smell!  Strange, I feel like I am recognizing this place, this smell from before.  

The view from the top of the hill is of rolling hills, mountains in the distance, fields of trees and vineyards.  The first courtyard within the walls of the abbey feels enchanted.

The second courtyard, lined with beautiful arches revealing the valley below, feels like a transcendent place.

We walk up the stone steps and into the church.  I’ve had the consistent experience walking into these huge old stone cathedrals that most of them are cold and smell a bit like mold.  Somehow, this cathedral is wonderfully fragrant and warmer than it is outside (even though it is sunny and warm out).  It is beautiful inside, but what is most remarkable to me is the energy.  I feel I am at home.  When it is time to leave, I start to cry.  I think I must be opening some inner release valve, because by the time I reach the bottom of the steps that lead out of the cathedral and into the courtyard, I am weeping.  There is great peace and harmony with nature here.  Loving God through nature always rings for me inside. There is beauty in life all around us – when we spend so much time in dogma we miss some of the best of Creation, some of the best gateways for awakening even – they are all around us.  I don’t know much about St. Benedict, but I suspect he was a beautiful being, judging from the fruits of his spiritual labor and the feeling I have here.  I hope to return to the Abbey of Montecassino one day.

When we get on the bus, one of the pilgrims passes out St. Benedict’s crosses – one for each of us.  I am surprised that I feel grateful for this religious symbol, and I hold it close to my heart, in an inner pocket of my jacket.  I feel like it’s a piece of that home I felt in the Abbey.

Sanctuary of St. Philomena, Avellino, Italy

Our tour guide relays the story of St. Philomena on the bus ride to Avellino.  Apparently, she refused her marriage to a Roman emperor because she only wanted to be devoted to God.  The emperor attempted to kill her several times, each time she miraculously lived, declaring more and more fervently her commitment to God and Christ. The emperor continued to torture her and tried to kill her until finally, her body gave in.  I believe she became a saint not only because of the miracles that happened around her death, but at the miracles that happened to others around her grave after her death.  It’s a fascinating story.

For some reason, the church did not compel me as much as the story. Eventually I leave the group in the cold cathedral and head outside in the sun to observe the town.  Another pilgrim is also hanging around outside.  We start with polite conversation at first, and then she tells me about her gay daughter’s sinful life in the San Francisco Bay Area.  She says her daughter is influenced by the devil and her grandson (conceived with a sperm donation – “how terrible”) is the only heavenly miracle that has come out of an evil situation.  I test the boundaries a bit, and offer a bit more of a forgiving perspective about the whole thing – she immediately cuts me off and proceeds to take a left turn into an even more vehement sermon against abortion.  I feel her position is such division, conflict, judgment, darkness within her.  I’m not sure how she reconciles this darkness with her claim that she is fervently devoted to the beauty of God.

We get on the bus and I am still feeling the weight of her darkness.  The hypocrisy bothers me as well; I feel very strongly that it’s not ours to judge, and when we judge, we are pretending to be that God-father-in-the-sky.  I am realizing few here – maybe none – are interested in truth, and that sincerity is most definitely not clarity, transcendence, or grace.  I also have been reflecting on the absence of inner inquiry and inner accountability in these practices.  All the prayer and meditation is focused on begging to be forgiven by the outside source, praying for others, giving to God.  Unless an individual has some natural capacity for self-reflection, I can see how anyone could get quite lazy about their accountability and integrity: just pray, fast, do the rosary, go to church, and you will be ok. All spiritual practices have their limitation; I guess I’m more clearly seeing the limitation of these Christian practices.

I would love to know if all the saints gained transcendence and clarity, or just a few.  It seems it’s the latter. In the church where we had mass yesterday there was a room devoted to a child saint who had suffered greatly.  Her room reeked of sick child (even though she died hundreds of years ago) and had so much suffering and heavy energy in it.  I heard an inner guidance that said “don’t go in” upon crossing the threshold, so I immediately turned around and went to another part of the cathedral.  When I inquired later, it felt like this saint’s teaching of suffering was simply not something I needed.  I suppose like spiritual teachers, each of the saints reflects a different way of relating to God.  Whatever works, I say.

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Later on during the bus ride, our guide puts in a DVD about the apparition of Mary in Fatima, Portugal.  It is animated, and at first I want nothing more than to tune it out.  Even though I am sleepy, I can’t help but watch it.  I think what first compels me is that the Archangel Michael looks like Fred from Scooby-Doo.  And hey, who wouldn’t be riveted by an apparition of Mary that arrives in a bubble like Glinda from the Wizard of Oz?  It is an interesting story about the apparitions of Mary, but a bit hard to believe told via a cheesy cartoon.

Although I will take this moment to observe, after hours on the bus with this group of pilgrims, that prayer has an interesting impact energetically.  Normally, being in an enclosed space with a group of humans, the energy can get heavy or uncomfortable; I notice that prayer seems to “scrub things clean.”  My theory about this is that instead of all of us focusing on our discomforts, worries, thoughts we are all focusing our energies towards God. 

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Sanctuary of St. Michael the Archangel (St. Michael’s Cave in Gargano, Italy).  The story here is that St. Michael the Archangel magically lured a bull into this cave, and when the rancher discovered what had happened, he tried to kill the bull with arrows.  St. Michael turned the arrows back and said the cave needed to be devoted to him.  So they built a church around the cave.  We descend the many stairs to the caves below, which are beautiful.  Regardless of what you believe about St. Michael turning back arrows, the caves have a wonderful energy and I feel very at home here. 

After mass in the small side chapel, my parents and I agree that we would avoid the cold bitter wind of this seaside town and head to the bus. I am so charmed by this little village on the Adriatic Sea that I get spirited away down curvy cobblestone side streets and take more photos.  This is one of my favorites, a staircase overgrown by wildflowers.

Still enchanted, I get on the bus for the rest of our journey to San Giovanni Rotondo, the former home of St. Padre Pio.

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I love our hotel in San Giovanni Rotondo, Hotel Approdo.  The rooms are large and even though they are simple and a bit sparse, I feel warm and welcomed here.  Besides, the dinner is heavenly.  We start with a wonderful wine and pasta with a meat, tomato, and mushroom sauce.  Our main course is meat in a delicious gravy with potatoes and steamed vegetables, and then gelato for dessert.  We sit with some pilgrims who enjoy laughing, talking, and wine.  I am relieved and I enjoy myself for one evening without feeling like I need to be on my best Catholic behavior. 

As I am getting ready for bed, I realize that the presence I’ve been feeling since we arrived – fiery, strong, clear, spiritually potent – is Padre Pio.  I have been interested in him ever since I heard a quote from him years ago, “God is within us.”  I am very curious to spend some more time with him tomorrow – but now, it’s time for sleep.

Coming Monday: Day 5 San Giovanni Rotondo to the Adriatic Sea: Profound Dialogue with Padre Pio; Real Body and Blood; The Nature of Miracles; Communist-Era Ferry Ride with Fish Heads

I’d love to hear your thoughts and insights! Post a comment here or email Sonya@illuminatedwisdom.com.