The fire of love

Regular readers of these resoconti will be aware that, when in Italy, Cinzia and I choose to attend the traditional Italiano Mass on Sundays in the diminutive chapel on the outskirts of Colleferro, a country town about dieci kilometres from Artena (Europes’s largest tutto pedestrian village) perched atop a steep hill nine kilomtres from Giulianello. Well Cinzia and I have, at last, repaired to Italy post pandemic and so have resumed our attendances at the Colleferro Mass. Readers of previous resoconti will be aware that Colleferro had fallen on hard times post Mussolini. Consequently there are only two reasons why anyone in their right mind would want to go there, even momentarily, unless they were searching for spare parts for the macchina at the huge wrecking facility that stretches for kilometres in most directions, OR they are attending the Traditional Mass at the really tiny chapel. The uninitiated (ie non-Catholic) reader might be unacquainted with the qualities that set the Traditional Mass apart from what is generally known worldwide as the Novus Ordo or New Order. Forgive me, therefore, initiated readers, while I explain to the others. The Traditional Mass is that celebrated in the custom of the first 1950 years of Catholicism. The two essential features of the Traditional Mass are that it is celebrated in Latin and everyone (clergy and congregation) all face the alter which is perched at the extremity of the chiesa – that is – the celebrant and the congregation ALL face the back wall. Nowadays in Italy they make the concession of conducting most of the Mass in Italiano rather than Latin – which is imperceptible to most non Italiani, but the fact that everyone is facing the back wall does have significant relevance to our story which we are about to address. To complete setting the scene (especially for what Italians refer to as “vergini lettori” which really makes no reference to the prior sexual pursuits of the reader, but more or less means “unused” or “new” reader, as I found out when I marched into the musica section of a large department store looking for a blank CD – and found out that what I was after was a “vergini CD.” Makes sense when you think about it. I can’t think of why I didn’t think of it myself! This little chapel was built to accommodate one family. It is an attachment to the family villa which, like the rest of Colleferro, has seen better days. Nowadays the family is much reduced and dispersed, but the locals within a thirty kilometre radius flock there to fill the eight small pews. Now that too has seen better days. When we attended regularly in pre-pandemic days we had to get there thirty minutes early in order to get our seats (all the other attendees have their “regular – virtually designated” – seats so you wouldn’t be brave enough to take one of those). Now Cinzia and I constituted a third of the congregation which represents an increase in families, but an overall reduction in individual attendees. One attendee is Maria, the only surviving member of the original owners of the villa, another is Domenico, the eighty year-old who sixty years ago moved to another area but spent every Sunday at this chiesa when in short pants and braces and he simply hasn’t ever given much thought to changing destination when climbing into the Panda each Sunday morning. Another attendee is the elderly and not-so-mobile neighbour who lives directly across the road from the chiesa. She simply

couldn’t go anywhere else because she needs a fairly big break in the traffic to cross the road. Luckily (or perhaps by design) there are traffic lights that join her front door and the chiesa entrata. Also luckily for the signora, the supermarket is alongside the chiesa. With the decline in the Colleferro population there is barely any traffic along the road these days, but the traffic lights remain. Presumably because without them the signora would be incarcerated in her casa. The remaining attendee is a younger lady who was intending to go to the supermercato but turned sinistra instead of destra. Now the only remaining piece of background information necessary is the quaint understanding that the proceedings in this little chiesa are BOTH very formal and, in typical Italiani fashion, when the occasion demands, quite informal. People come to the service BECAUSE it is the formal celebration of Mass but, allora, it is a tiny little community where everyone knows everyone intimately and has done so for generations – so moments for levity and exchanges of witty comments are not left uncelebrated. So; to the story. Last Sunday was the Christian celebration of Pentecost, and as a consequence the service was devoted to the advent of that very historic occasion, steeped in meaning and religious significance to all Christians. And, unsurprisingly, Pentecost was the subject of the priest’s homily. Now, while the celebrant addresses the alter during the service, he turns to face the congregation when delivering the homily. This means that he is facing the whole of the chapel, including the sea of six members of the congregation as well as the small replica of the Madonna nestled in a makeshift mini chapel of her own which otherwise serves as a window sill. Pentecost commemorates the descent of the Holy Spirit to the original disciples – known in liturgical terms as the “fire of love.” As it happened, precisely at the moment when the priest uttered the phrase “il fuoco dell'amore scese sui discepoli” his gaze fell upon the very long, lit candle with its flame licking the fabric curtain on the side window flanking the Modonna’s replica, whereupon he broke the train of thought to request the Neapolitan frocked assistant to attend to the “il fuoco interno pronto” in order to avert a catastrophe enveloping the whole congregation! Mind you, the attendance of un’ambulanza and un carro funebre would probably have been sufficient. When a Neopolitan is introduced to any vocal exchange, irrespective of the seriousness or otherwise of the situation, you can assure yourself that it will be highly interesting and usually entertaining and this exchange was no different, albeit in the middle of a very serious homily. The priest and the assistant engaged themselves (and the congregation) in a most amusing aside to the formal proceedings, following which the homily returned to the central theme of the fire of love. Such is life - and holy celebration - in the Italiano paese.