Marleen Rohmensen
During the Christmas season I was a guest of good friends at the picturesque Iseomer, located in the north of Italy between the cities of Brescia and Bergamo. To be precise, I was in the cute little village of Toline. This village is built from the lake up against the mountain side of the Trentapassi mountain (1.248 m) and is well worth a visit.
It has a rich history and a beautiful church from the 15th century: the Chiesa di San Gregorio Magno, decorated with many ancient frescoes and of course a beautiful statue of the Madonna with Jesus, the work of Andrea Fantoni from 1740.
Full church
On Christmas Eve we walked from the house of my friends Celestina and Sergio to the little church. We were already a bit late and many believers and non-believers, who secretly wanted to taste the Christmas atmosphere of the mass, had already arrived. The little church was packed and packed.
We squeezed through the crowd and just managed to get a somewhat drafty pitch at the side, near the entrance. From my seat I had a beautiful view of all the frescoes, which were painted over during the plague period to also 'clean' the church. Centuries later, this layer was removed and the original frescoes reappeared.
The pastor, an old and stooped man, came in in his fine white Christmas toga. There was a choir that was 'hidden' behind the altar and sang beautifully.
The altar boys sat in full uniform to the left of the altar, ready for their duties. A few church members read part of the Christmas story from the Bible. The atmosphere was good and felt peaceful, just as it should be according to tradition.
The whole Christmas story
The sermon followed. The pastor read in a monotone voice the entire Christmas story letter by letter from a very large Bible and had to stand on tiptoe to be able to read it. My image of the beautiful, traditional Christmas was somewhat clouded by this.
The time for supper arrived. According to the rules of the Catholic Church, you can only go get the host if you have confessed beforehand. But then, who checks that the moment you stand in front of the pastor and open your mouth to receive the wafer? It is based on trust and one's own conscience of course.
firm breaths
The pastor was visibly enjoying the wine in the beautiful, shiny chalice. He even emptied a chalice with firm gulps twice. I thought, Boy, that's going well with that man. Then he put water in it, swirled the chalice frantically and drank this too. Then he took a large white napkin and began to dry the chalice. He fumbled with a key in a cupboard above the altar and eventually both the wine chalice and the chalice containing the hosts disappeared.
Happy Easter!
He again stood before the altar and raised his arms to heaven to give us the blessing. First, hands were shaken frantically for each other medium-high pace a nice gesture in today's world full of violence.
Again the pastor's arms went up and I prepared myself for a Merry Christmas to you all, a Merry Christmas to you all. But to my great dismay and that of my fellow Mass visitors, the pastor exclaimed:Happy Easter!', 'Happy Easter!'
My friends also looked at me with big eyes and we started laughing. The pastor was unaware of any harm and disappeared behind scenes. Would he have drunk too quickly and too much wine, did it cross my mind for a moment? Or could it be his age? After all, young pastors are becoming increasingly scarce, even in predominantly Catholic Italy.
We closed the mass outside while enjoying a cup of mulled wine, vin brulé and a slightly dry piece Panettone, entirely according to the Italian Christmas tradition.
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