In between pots and pans

On the top of the Esquilino hill, which was, in the days of the Divus Augustus, a cemetery for slaves (where the poet Horatius went to see the witches making their horrid spells)… in a little secluded street off Piazza Santa Maria Maggiore, there is the magnificent Basilica of Santa Prassede. I do not want to make the list of the treasures hidden in this shy but beautiful church, but only tell you the story of the saint to whom the church is dedicated. She was one of two sisters born of a senatorial family. Their father, Pudente, was a great friend of Saint Pauls and such a rich and important man was he that his home (full of gardens and even baths) sloped down from the Esquilino hill towards what is now the cool Monti area. It all belonged to him and to his two daughters who were slaughtered because Christians. Little of very little remains of their vivid memory and martyrdom (meaning being a witness), all saints, who knows why, become statues and bits of paper and loose life and light. What a pity! Where blood and the fire of love used to consume soul and body, only the dust of time has remained…

So very true this is that when, during my spiritual tours, I talk to my guests telling them the stories of, let’s say, Saint Teresa of Avila, their eyes open up in wide bewilderment when I tell them that the beautiful Teresa, while a kid, run away from home together with her brother to join the crusades. Her parents brought them back home and maybe, probably even, spanked her for running away… Yes, the great Saint, the Doctor of the Church was also a naughty little girl, as she said, yes a mystic, “in between pots and pans".

This masterpiece by Lorenzo Lotto shows Mary in the fright of becoming the mother of God. Pleae note the terrified cat running away,  in awe, while God enters Mary's room