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Thou art Dolly

When Jane and I entered the Romanesque twelfth century cathedral of Ravello (a terraced town overlooking the Bay of Salerno) we were struck by the beauty of its tall white walls and timbered ceiling and especially by the high pulpit, which stood to the right of the center aisle. The pulpit's sculpted stone was inlaid with gold mosaics woven around a colorful mosaic of the Madonna - and its six spiral legs rested upon the backs of six prowling marble lions.

But what gave us immediate pause were the strains of Schubert's Panis Angelicus sung by a soprano voice coming from behind the front pillars of the nave. I thought it was a tape played for the benefit of visitors, but it was nothing so commercial. Advancing toward the main altar, we discovered it to be the voice of a young woman practicing for a festival. We then turned to view a side altar and were startled to see a middle-aged woman in a flowery skirt standing on a ledge of the altar, dusting the gold lattice work below a Renaissance painting. What with her colorful skirt it was difficult at first to distinguish her from all the other ornaments - until she smiled and waved her dust rag.

Such delightful experiences were not unusual, for Jane and I were left continually astounded by one such cathedral or chapel after another, fresh with flowers, loaded with aesthetic expressions of faith dating from the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. And I had to think: you know, if you limit your reading about those centuries to secular history books, all you'll hear about is the worst of ecclesiastical politics. They'll concentrate on the continual conflict between the Popes and German Emperors, controversies over discipline, one Pope living in Avignon and another in Italy, holy wars against heretics and Turks. You'll read about the Borgias and Colonnas and Medicis seeking the papacy by hook or by crook; and about an not so Innocent VIII and Alexander VI and about Pope Julius II decked out in armor to resist the armies of the King of France - and about the Reformation and how all of this contributed to the bloody break up of Europe which is only now beginning - very tentatively - to heal. And you have to ask yourself: how in heaven's name did Christianity survive!

Well it has survived because of the grace of God so evident in these gems, these sanctuaries with their fresh flowers and frescos and in that soprano voice I heard and in that woman in her colorful skirt up on that altar ledge insuring that the no cobwebs accumulate. It's not because of politics but because of ordinary people (whom the history books treat as of no account) who have nevertheless valued the essence of what the Church is all about and have never ceased to nourish their faith within these sometimes simple, sometimes splendid sacramental chambers.

And as regards that woman up on the altar dusting away! She reminds me a bit of Dolly Winthrop in Silas Marner. Nowhere in the Gospel will you hear Jesus say, "Thou art Dolly and upon this Rock I will build my Church." And yet it's those Dollys of our heritage to whom we owe so much - who brought a despairing Silas Marner Christmas cakes with IHS imprinted on them, assuring him that "whativer the letters are, they've a good meaning." And who assured him that if he were to get to church "and see the holly and the yew, and hear the anthim, and take the sacramen', you'd be a deal the better, and you'd know which end you stood on, and you could put your trust in Them as knows better than we do!" She always referred to God as "Them" - which in its blend of intimacy and reverence must have pleased God more than all the highfalutin' titles given him by philosophers and theologians.

-- Geoff Wood