The Hand of Fortune

Today was the feast of San Fortunato -- the culmination of a four-day holy event.  San Fortunato is the patron saint of Todi (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fortunatus_of_Todi), and the church of San Fortunato (yes, the one directly across from our house) holds his relics.  In this case, his arm (from the hand to just short of the elbow -- encased in a silver reliquary shaped to look like the original relics -- think Wormtail after Voldemort got at him).

At 5:30, the bells of the Duomo were tolling in a very particular cadence that I'd never heard before.  It was exciting and lovely, and made me think of "...the tintinnabulation of the bells bells bells bells..." as the poem goes.  Why the Duomo?  Because, of course, as for every feast day there must be a procession.  And what better excuse than to process with the relics from the Duomo to the church of San Fortunato?

Bearing in mind that the relics usually lie in state in San Fortunato, we envisioned them being moved in the back of one of the little three-wheeled trucks that zip around town (glorified scooters) to the Duomo in preparation.  Let's hope that it was a bit more dignified, but I do wonder.

The boys were altar servers, and by the time I got to the Duomo, they were robed up from toe to smirk.  James was smirking because he got to carry one of the candles in the procession.  Jeremy was smirking because he got to carry the incense in a beautiful engraved silver boat.

As I noticed them, the Duomo contained at that time:

• A wood & glass case to hold the relics
• Three different men's groups, all in different costumes -- very caped and vested.
• Many priests with much handmade lace & embroidery (just gorgeous)
• The Archbishop
• A few tourists and some of the faithful

Outside, we had the band that we know and love, several different flags in formation for the procession, and lots of people standing with cameras at the ready.  We can't forget the mayor, resplendent in his red, white, and green sash -- and the honor guard!

And so the procession started.  With the bells and the band and the marching, we made quite a sight.  There were lots of participants in this event, and the location helped with the count of spectators.  And, yes, there were a few banners hanging in windows (just a few this time, sadly) -- burgundy.  

Instead of going up the main steps, we went around in the little alley in which I drive my car all the time (I park next to San Fortunato).  I speculated that it was to allow the men to avoid carrying the patently heavy case for the relics up the steep steps while wearing floor-length robes, but maybe it was to make the procession longer?  In any case, the band echoed charmingly in the small space. 

We went into the church to discover a crowd, including the choir (oops -- we didn't realize we were supposed to arrive at San Fortunato early if we wanted to sing; but I couldn't have anyway since I have the remains of a cold and am coughing prodigiously at the moment).  It was standing room only.  Partly because they have very few pews, but still.  The church was absolutely beautiful, with lavish floral arrangements on the altar, and some really interesting (and lovely!) flatter floor arrangements going from the entrance to the altar -- kind of grassy with flowers (gerbera daisies and other brightly colored blooms). It was the first time I'd seen this kind of decoration and floral exuberance for a feast day.  

The first order of the homecoming for the relics was to remove the silver reliquary from its wood & glass case.  The case was clearly heavy, and we waited with bated breath as four of the robed men struggled to remove it without damaging the relics, the case, or themselves (presumably in that order?).  They finally managed to move the separate parts to their individual safe havens without event, while the congregation heaved a collective sigh of relief.

The Mass was very nice and the choir sounded great.  There were no fewer than 29 priests, a couple of deacons, and a half-dozen altar servers.  I have to confess to a bit of a giggle, though, during the concluding rites: at the point where the bishop holds up his right hand/arm to bless the congregation, he held up (you may have guessed, but it was hard for me to fight the wave of laughter because it was so unexpected) -- the disembodied, silver-encased hand of San Fortunato. 

After San Francesco's (St. Francis's) essentially non-eventish feast day, this was satisfyingly full of pomp and circumstance.  I never can resist a procession, particularly when blessed by the hand of fortune...

Love,

Alexandra