Monte Sant'Angelo perched between rock and sky

THE MISSING BULL
and what came
next...
By Daphne Pochin Mould B.Sc., Ph.D.
FOR me, the big blue bus swinging into the station square at Foggia with Monte Sant'Angelo on its direction board, meant the last leg of the long journey from Ireland to the great shrine of the Archangel Michael (whose feast is next Monday) on Monte Gargano in the south of Italy.
The bus headed out along a
tree lined highway over the level plains. Ahead the mountains rose as dramatically as the Scottish Highland line.
Halfway up their flank, on a
terrace, is the monastery of Padre Pio, San Giovanni; but on the very top, perched between rock and sky is Monte Sane/Inge)°, at a height of 2,765 ft.
THE BULL
THE story is one of a farmer. a rich man, living in the lowland, who missed a bull from his herd.
Eventually it was found in a cave on the heights above the plains of Siponto and Manfredonia; the arrow shot at the bull by an archer sped back on the man, and so great was the general terror and concern over the strange events in the cave, that the bishop of Siponto ordered a three day fast to discover what could be the meaning of the various happenings.
THE ANGEL
WHEN the three. days fast was
over, the Archangel Michael told the bishop that the cave was under his protection and was to be a church. Nor need it be consecrated for Michael had already performed that ceremony.
The date of the apparition was about 492, when Gelasius was Pope. A healing spring appeared from the rock at which many cures took place: the early accounts say the pilgrims used to drink from it after receiving Holy Communion: when Communion was received under both species, it was usual to take a drink by way of ablution afterwards.
Throughout the middle ages pilgrims flocked to Gargano, the mountain ridge jutting out into the Adriatic that is sometimes called the "spur of Italy".
THE VILLAGE
AT last our bus pulled up the final rise and into the main street of Monte Sant'Angelo. A white washed southern mountain village, with close narrow streets, the mules, bells jingling and with peaked pack saddles, moving along them, cars singularly out of place in such a setting though, of course, very much present!
A southern town; the children dark-eyed, hands ready to stretch out to beg; the souvenir sellers on the alert with figures of St. Michael, post cards, guidebooks, Rosary beads. For even if Gargano is no longer a pilgrimage once it was; it still draws its
centre on the level of Lourdes, as quota of devout or curious.
Up the narrow street to the detached late 13th century bell tower, and into a little square before a great double doorway, richly carved; leading down into a wide stone vaulted passage-way. One had supposed an ordinary church; not these 88 stairs plunging down into the depths of the rock of the summit mountain.
Down and on. and then through the great bronze doors made in Constantinople in 1076, divided into panels with scenes from the Old and New Testaments showing the angel-events which they record.
THE CAVE
AND then I found myself not in a church; but in a limestone
cave, whose roof dripped moisture onto the floor, a deep mysterious cavern, dim and dark. with the sparkling lights and candles in its depths on the various altars set around its walls.
Here Mass has been celebrated ever since Michael's apparition.
There are other, far more ancient carvings against the walls; the Virgin and Child, three figures representing the Trinity, a solitary fresco of St. Dominic. An 11th century stone episcopal throne is placed beside the high altar.
There are many famous shrines which do not impress. Monte Sant'Angelo could hardly over be one of these. The splendour of the mountains, the long ascent, the dark cave after the white streets; the pilgrim finds he has come not merely to one of the most ancient shrines of St. Michael but to an intense spiritual experience.