The Hooks' Adventure Continues!: Pregnant Mary and the Vineyards

The other day, we had occasion to go across to Assisi to visit my pregnant Mary. Truth to tell, we didn't go all the way to Assisi, but rather to the settlement at the bottom of the hill known as Santa Maria Degli Angeli. It was here that Saint Francis had his commune, and I had wanted to visit the basilica built essentially OVER his (renovated by him) church and the hut in which he lived.

But I get ahead of myself.

Those who have followed the blog since last year may recall that one of my delights at Christmas has to do with my presepe. Starting the first weekend of Advent (if I have my act together), we set up the stable scene and the people who dot the countryside around "Bethlehem" -- otherwise known as the landing -- and Mary and Joseph start their trek up the stairs with the donkey.

It has bothered me tremendously that the Mary statuette that I have is kneeling in adoration at the new-born babe who at this point in the story has not been born. I asked Vladimiro, the artist who did the initial presepe figurines, whether he'd be able to modify one to make a pregnant Mary who is on her travels. After a lot of optimism, he finally confessed that it would lead him to the verge of a nervous breakdown to have to take on that particular project. But. He has a friend who would be able to do it, no problem! Of course, I would have to negotiate separately with him.

Antonio and I have talked for several weeks now, and he has consulted with Vladimiro to make sure that she will be in scale with the rest of the set. And my pregnant Mary is currently drying preparatory to being fired! So it was obviously time to go for a visit.

Rather than being in Deruta, where Vladimiro is located, Antonio has his studio in Sta. Maria degli Angeli. So, off we set for a visit.

When we found his shop (via a phone call in which we were consulting about our respective locations, and my father-in-law happened to see him standing in the doorway of the studio talking on the phone; "Could that be his studio?"!!), we were warmly welcomed. It turns out that Antonio was a priest in Africa for five years, during which period he was in Rwanda at the time of the uprising, then a parish priest in Italy, and then back in Africa. After a long discernment, he determined that the priesthood was not for him, and he left the vocation. He later met the woman who was to become his wife, and he now has a 10-year-old child...and his profession is making sacred art in clay and bronze. Quite a story.

Looking up in the portico of the basilica

Next stop: Porzioncola, meaning "little patch of land." This was the location where a church dating possibly to the 300s (no, that is not a typo), but at least documented in the 1100s was falling into ruin at the time of Saint Francis. Part of his mission as he understood it was to rebuild the physical church buildings, as opposed to rebuilding the spiritual mission of the church--as he later learned. Among others, he rebuilt this darling little chapel which is maybe 8 feet by 14 feet. He also built a small cell in which he could take shelter; his spiritual brothers also had huts dotted around the campus which are no longer standing.

After Saint Francis died in this little cell, his body (minus the heart, which was left in a reliquary in his hut or something like that) was carted up the hill to Assisi. This was no little Sunday afternoon walk in the park, mind you. It's a good long way, and the hills are steep. They also went via Saint Clare's settlement which is somewhere in the area, extending the parade.

True to form, it was clear that a basilica must be erected OVER the little church and the cell. So that is what they did.

A long and unwinding road

After a delicious lunch, it was time to get back to Todi. We took the cross-country route home and enjoyed spectacular colors for much of the way home. The vineyards around Todi have mostly dropped their leaves, but Assisi is in a slightly different area and so the vineyards were gorgeous. Oh, and we stopped in Bevagna on the way home.