A Tapestry of Faith
Louise Halpin
For about 6 years Louise and her husband Andy have been collaborating with me in the rediscovery of Jacopone. They do most of the editorial work of this Newsletter. Of the many people I have met over these years, Louise and Andy are the ones who have done most to make the great poet and mystic of Todi known. Over these 6 years I have wondered what motivated their precious and passionate involvement. I always thought there was more than a purely cultural interest and wondered what more there was. Two weeks ago Louise sent me the following story, which finally answers my question. It is a moving story, tracing the outline of a simple and concrete faith, which Jacopone would have liked very much.
Claudio Peri.
My mother had just died and her funeral was two weeks previous to my arriving in Todi in 2018. We have spent two weeks each year in Todi for the past decade. I was still grieving her loss but I was in Todi and – as I had discovered each year that we came here – a sense of peace and quiet joy settled in my heart. This year was no exception. However, this year in Umbria had yet to extend another special gift to me.
The Santuario Madonna dei Bagni is nestled on the edge of beautiful woodlands just off the E45 highway between Todi and Deruta. Externally this church has a simple brown brick façade, but the interior is quite unique and surprising.
The origins of the church go back to the middle of the 17th century and a story involving a merchant from the nearby village of Casalina, named Christofono. While passing this way one day, Christofono found, lying on the ground, a broken piece of pottery painted with an unusual representation of the Madonna and Child; because of this he secured it in the branch of a nearby oak tree. (You can read a description of the painting at https://www.madonnadelbagno.it/storia/ ).
The Sanctuary of Madonna dei Bagni (author : Sailko. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported license).
The partial story that follows is taken from the same website.
It then happened that in March 1657 Christofono's wife fell seriously ill, to the point of dying. The poor man, having arrived in front of the oak and the image of Mary that he himself had fixed to the tree, raised a prayer to the Mother of God for the healing of his wife. In the evening, returning home from the fair, he found her perfectly healed and intent on housework, 'sweeping the house'.
The news of this miracle spread in a flash. Pilgrimage to the oak tree del Bagno immediately began, and a small chapel was built in a very short time to enclose the oak and the image. The site became so popular that the ecclesiastical authority was forced to forbid access to it.
The altar, with the oak tree bearing the ceramic image visible to the rear (photo: Andy Halpin)
Eventually they rebuilt and extended the church to make room for the many pilgrims who would travel there to seek their own answers to prayer. The original oak tree and branch with the ceramic painting are still visible today, protected in a glass casing behind the altar.
A fascinating and beautiful tradition arose as a result of these events. The pilgrims who came to pray in that place and seek healing for themselves or loved ones, in gratitude for answered prayer, had ceramic hand-painted plaques created and placed on the walls. Most of these artifacts were made not far away, in the town of Deruta, where there is a long history of ceramic craftsmanship and where the original vessel, with the image of the Madonna and Child, had been made. These small pieces of art typically depict the tragic event that had occurred and had given rise to so desperate a need to pray. And on every plaque is printed “P.G.R.” (Per Grazie Ricevuta – ‘for mercies received’). Hundreds of these small hand-painted plaques now cover each wall in the church, from the earliest plaques made soon after 1657 to the most recent, dating from 2018.
The original plaque of 1657, telling Christofono’s story (photo: Andy Halpin).
A recent plaque (photo: Andy Halpin).
It seemed to me like a tapestry of faith.
But what had an old tradition to do with my grieving and anxious heart? Sitting in that same place and reflecting on the centuries of faith and prayer that were represented on those walls, I could almost hear the murmurings and whisperings of all those pleas for answers. Something in me was stirred. I had my own need for answers, in what seemed like an impossible family situation resulting from my mother's death. My brother, who has physical and mental health issues, had depended on my mother for almost everything. Now she was gone, I wondered how he could manage to live his life on his own. So I joined the hundreds of pilgrims before me and prayed.
Returning to Madonna dei Bagni several years later, I could add my story to the many others I found depicted on those walls. In the intervening years my brother has gradually become more independent and has learned to do for himself what many of us take for granted. But more than that, he is remarkably content with his simple life and sees that he has everything he needs. It was not a quick fix but an ongoing and gentle coming back to life that I witnessed over many years and continues today.
I am very grateful. P.G.R.
