The Dashing Madonna - Easter in Abruzzo
Remote and hidden away, a couple of hours from Rome yet worlds apart, the solid heart of Italy beats with its own timeless rhythm.
Nestled within its wild and rough-hewn beauty, the city of Sulmona lies in the emerald basin of the Peligna valley within a vast and natural amphitheatre. Bold, flat-topped mountains brood over the landscape like silent giants. Huge masses of dark cloud often obscure their tops, from which snow plunges down the dark ravines in myriad slivers, while lower down swirls of mist hover above the forest-clad slopes.
It’s easy to understand why the Peligna valley has always been a place of contemplative hermitage. Sacred to the Goddess Maja by the ancient Paeligni, Petrarch named the valley simply Domus Christi, or house of god, for its proliferation of retreats and abbeys. More than a hundred hermits chose to retreat here, including a man who was carried down by a fervent crowd and installed as Pope Celestine V. Here, sheer isolation and the hostility of nature have prompted a unique folklore tradition, loaded with both pagan superstition and religious belief.
Magic, mysticism, the sacred and the profane have merged and regenerate themselves each year in timeless rituals. During Holy Week, Sulmona and its magnificent backdrop become the setting for one of the most solemn yet spectacular rituals in Italy, whose final culmination lasts only 15 seconds but requires a year of preparation.
An Age-old Tradition
Although the true origins of this ritual are lost in the mists of pre-Christian time, amongst spring fertility rites, it can certainly be linked to medieval popular drama. Fragments of a passion play written in the 14th century have been preserved, concerning the role of the fourth soldier and other characters in the Passion of Christ.
It is unclear when performances of this passion play ceased but over time it appears that the actors were gradually replaced with the giant statues of the modern ‘play’. On the evening of Maundy Thursday and the Last Supper, throngs of locals wind through the narrow cobbled streets and alleys of Sulmona to visit the local churches; this tradition of ‘fare i sepolcri’ occurs in many Abruzzesi villages (as in much of the South of Italy - ed) . Even this ceremony manages to hold its own superstitions: it is considered bad luck to visit an even number of churches.
Inside each church, the statue of the Dead Christ is illuminated in a holy sepulchre by flickering candles in dramatic chiaroscuro. In an ancient peasant ritual of death and mourning, the faithful approach in hushed silence. On Good Friday, the city has been transformed. Traffic-free, it bustles with visitors from every corner of the Abruzzo to attend the Procession of the Dead Christ and the Madonna Addolorata (our Lady of Sorrows). At dusk, the door of the church of S.S.Trinità opens to the hauntingly sad notes of a funeral march by Alberto Valla. Its slow, marching rhythm (used in several films by neorealist director Vittorio De Sica) is a prompt for a solemn procession to leave the church and wind its way through the streets, hemmed in by silent crowds of people and following an itinerary which traces out the sign of the cross. It is led by one of the most ancient confraternities of the city, the Trinitari, wearing shiny crimson surplices and white bib vests. The emotion of the confrati is strong; slowly, their humming dies down, and the church empties under the tormented eyes of Our Lady. She watches over her Son’s corpse from the altar, and prepares to follow in this agonising wake.
