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Nestled in the foothills about three hours north
of Rome, Italy is the region of Umbria known as "terra di santi"... land of
saints. St Francis of Assisi and St Clare are two of the more well known
saints from this area of rolling hills and quaint villages. For the last
eleven years, I've been making the trip from Rome to Citta di Castello, a
charming old city in Umbria. Outside the old city walls is a modern
development but inside the old city are cobble stone, narrow streets that
look more like alleyways build small to accommodate foot and horse traffic
of years past.
In the morning hours before the sun peeks over the roof tops, I can smell
the aroma of fresh baked bread inner-mingled with the lingering smell of
smoke from wood fires, stoked to warm the chill from heatless houses. As the
old city comes to life, nuns fly by on their bicycles, veils flapping in the
wind... children dashing off to school carrying brightly colored packs on
their backs. Sleepy eyed shop keepers swing open their doors while the
outdoor market sellers finish setting out their fruits and vegetables as the
early morning buyers mingle here and there to study prices and what there is
to buy for the day's meals.
In the central square, small groups... mostly older men gather standing in
circles talking among themselves, making gestures with their hands and all
sorts of facial contortions as they talk about what interests them at the
moment. Dogs scurry here and there greeting one another with licks and wags
or bristled up hair, stiffening every muscle to challenge who the territory
belonged to.
With streets so close together, it seems a necessity to greet each other
with a friendly, "Buon giorno" most always accompanied with a nod of the
head when we pass or greeting the shop keepers who stand in the door way
waiting for customers to buy their merchandise.
Not far from the central piazza is the church of San Domenico, a large stone
structure that was built in 1426 by Dominican fathers and brothers who
arrived in the area in about 1270. Inside, nothing seems to have changed
since it was built. The entrance is dwarfed by the eminence size of the roof
which seems about one hundred feet high.
Above the front door, about seventy feet off the stone floor, is a large
round window about seven feet in circumference. This is the main source of
natural lighting, covered by milky glass that softens the light as it
filters through the window into the church. Underneath the window and above
the door entrance is a plain wooden cross that seems to be seven feet high.
There are eleven stained glass windows, each about twenty five feet high...
four on each side of the length of the church and three in front... one very
large window that is wider than the others and two on each side in little
alcoves. The windows are strikingly beautiful with sharp, bright colors
which illuminate in the dimly lit church from the outside sunlight. Each
panel of stained glass shows a Dominican saint persevered in this beautiful
gleaming light for us to remember.
In the largest stained glass window behind the altar is the story of the
life of Blessed Margaret of Castello. Each pane of glass tells a story of
her life. During the day, when the sun is over the roof tops, beams of light
streak through the window showing blues, greens, reds, yellows that makes
Margaret's story jump right into your heart when viewing it. Your eyes
capture every moment that the windows are reflecting, to help you understand
one life... one little life that helped thousands by her example of
compassion and holiness.
Who is this third order Dominican who died at age thirty-three and given the
honor to be buried inside the church?
Blessed Margaret of Castello is known through out the world as the patron of
the handicapped and the unwanted. Underneath the stone altar, encased in
glass is her incorrupt body that is over 600 hundred years old.
Born in 1287 in the castle of the Metola, of noble parents, they were
ashamed that she was blind as well as deformed.
Little Margaret’s parents were so afraid of what people thought of them to
have such a deformed child that they told everyone that Margaret had died
and they kept her hidden in the basement of their castle until she was six
years old. When little Margaret's parents thought that they would be
discovered that they had their child hidden, they took her to the forest and
walled her up in a little cell that was attached to a church... and there
she stayed for fourteen years. The local priest taught her about God.
When war had broken out between the cities of Urbino and Citta di Castello,
which was being fought in the hills surrounding the castle of Metola,
Margaret's parents fled the castle, taking Margaret with them to Citta di
Castello. They had heard that there was a Franciscan priest who had died and
many miracles were being granted at his tomb. They hoped that through the
Grace of God, a miracle would happen and Margaret would be cured.
When no miracle happened, they abandoned Margaret at the church then
returned to their castle, never to see little Margaret again.
Margaret became a beggar to survive. The poor and the unwanted became her
friends. Later, Margaret was adopted by a kindly peasant woman who had a
large family of her own. Margaret's natural sweetness and goodness soon made
themselves felt, and she more than repaid the family for their kindness to
her. Margaret was an influence for all the children. She stopped their
quarrels, heard their catechism, told them stories, taught them psalms and
prayers. Busy neighbors were soon borrowing her to soothe a sick child or to
establish peace in the house.
Margaret’s reputation for holiness was so great that a community of sisters
in the town asked for her to become one of them. Margaret went happily to
join them, but unfortunately, there was little fervor in the house. The
little girl who was so prayerful and penitential was a reproach to their lax
lives, so Margaret was returned to the family, who gladly welcomed her home.
Some years after this, Margaret was received as a Dominican Tertiary and
clothed with the religious habit. The family home became the rendezvous of
troubled souls who came seeking Margaret's prayers. She said the Office of
the Blessed Virgin and the entire Psalter by heart and her prayers had the
effect of restoring peace of heart to those who were troubled. Denied
earthly sight, Margaret was favored with heavenly visions. "Oh, if you only
knew what I have in my heart!" she said often. The mysteries of the Rosary,
particularly the joyful mysteries, were so vivid to her that her whole
person would light up when she described the scene. She was often in
ecstasy, and, despite great joys and favors in prayer, she was often called
up on to suffer desolation and interior trials of frightening sorts. The
devil tormented her severely at times, but she triumphed over these
sufferings.
A number of miracles were performed by Blessed Margaret. On one occasion,
while she was praying in an upper room, the family house caught fire and she
called to Margaret to come down. People called to her to throw her cloak on
the flames. She did this and the blaze died out. At another time, she cured
a sister who was losing her eyesight.
Even though Margaret was blind, she made her way through the city streets to
visit prisoners and to help the poor. Extraordinary events that happened
through Margaret were recorded by one person after another. Many miracles
occurred that could not be explained except by the great devotion and love
that Margaret had for God that was shown through favors granted to this
little soul. She had steadfast courage and faithfulness to help others even
though she herself was rejected.
Attached to the church of San Domenico is the old cloister where the
Dominicans use to live and the garden where they walked in quiet to say
their prayers. In the middle of the garden is a fountain with water
trickling from a side ornament near the top of a three foot square stand in
the center, with a potted plant on top. The water then falls into the
fountain where Gold fish glide through the mossy water. There are beautiful
Rose bushes that have large, fragrant buds of different colors that are just
starting to open, while others have lost most of their pedals that are
sprinkled here and there upon the weed covered grass, adding color to the
lawn. Around the square garden is the long arched walk ways of the cloister
which also goes in a large square with another walkway directly on top,
about twenty five feet higher than the walkway on the bottom.
The Dominicans must have spent many long hours walking around the cloister
in peaceful prayer. If you can free your imagination, you can still hear
them chanting the Divine Office in the church of San Domenico that can be
heard in the old cloister garden; back and forth... one side chanting, then
the other.
The once bright gold paint on the old cloister walls are fading. Sections of
stone have chipped away from age. The paintings that depict Margaret's life
that are high on the cloister walls are also fading away. Time... that
reality that we must all watch, slips by so quickly leaving only dust in its
wake. Time has no favorites. It waits for no one.
The large bells of San Domenico toll; birds scatter into the air, their
wings flapping with the sounds echoing off the cloister walls, repeated
century after century. In the church of San Domenico, also buried in the
cloister and down the street in the old Dominican cemetery, where houses now
replace tomb stones, the bones of Dominicans who faithfully stayed to the
end is what remains to remind us of those who never floundered in the midst
of hardships. Their life must have been strenuous when you think that they
had no modern heating, no washer and dryer... only horses and their feet to
move them from one village to another as they went out to preach about God
to the people of the countryside.
Blessed Margaret’s body is often alone in the church of San Domenico. It
isn't visited as much as the other churches in the area, yet what keeps her
spirit alive are the young blind girls and women who now live at the old
cloister. They walk, often in silence, around the garden not being able to
see the old building that once housed so many Dominicans. But they can hear
the trickling of the water into the fountain and they can smell the
fragrance of the Roses as they pass them. They can hear the bells toll from
San Domenico and hear the birds fly into the air.
The new name for the old cloister is "Blessed Margaret's school for the
Blind" which is run by religious Sisters... "Serve Di Maria Riparatrice" an
Italian order of wonderful women who have promoted the life of Blessed
Margaret, while caring for the blind.
For all these years I have come to this place to sit in the old cloister,
listening to the water slowly drip into the fountain, waiting for the bells
of San Domenico to toll. I feel the spirit of the Dominicans, trying to
imagine them in their white robes, slowly moving in the cloister garden and
under the archways, lit by moonlight and the flickering of candle light. I
sit here thinking of the life of Blessed Margaret of Castello, her
suffering, her courage, and her hope.
Years ago there would be no real meaning to any of this for me because I had
no purpose. Now my life has changed. Blessed Margaret's life helped me find
my purpose... so I come here to the Old Cloister to reflect... to try and
understand the mystery of it all.
Blessed Margaret’s life is being spread by the Spirit, bringing hope and
courage to people throughout the world. Her story is in Russian, Polish,
Spanish and many other languages. Perhaps others will sit in an old
Cloister, as I did, hearing the bells toll then think of the little
Dominican, Blessed Margaret from Citta di Castello, who reached out to
others in spite of her own pain and sorrow. |
