Tales from the (Plague) Crypt: A Lake Como Halloween Story

Once Upon a Time in Lake Como (just two weeks ago), under a half-moon sky when it was closer to midnight than not, Belinda, Wendy, and Maria were walking back to the hotel after a lovely dinner. They were lagging behind the rest of the group who, because of the lateness of the hour and a chill in the air, had hurried on ahead.

But Belinda, Maria, and Wendy lagged.

Suddenly, Belinda spied an illuminated church steeple up a side street and wanted to go check it out, sure that it was the same steeple she had heard earlier from the hotel rooftop (the chimes playing Ave Maria). They could not tell how far away the church was, and a quick Google search simply confused matters, so the three of them decided to walk uphill on that side street with the hope the church was nearby.

Other than an occasional car or motorbike, the streets were deserted; other than their echoing footsteps, it was deathly quiet.

And then things got confusing because they rounded a corner and …  WHERE WAS THE STEEPLE? They could no longer see it, even as they continued to follow the street. But they had seen it! Bright and tall and unmistakable. Still, the church steeple had completely disappeared from view.

Then, a few blocks ahead, they saw part of an old building that maybe was the church? As they drew nearer, Maria stopped in the middle of the road.

“Oh my gosh! I know what that is. It is a chapel built to commemorate those that died during the plague,” she whispered.

And she was right. The plaque about the plague read: CHAPEL OF THE PLAGUE DEAD, 1630

It was a tiny, one-room chapel, built of ancient stone. The entrance was a locked gate which offered a view of the offerings on the altar and a single flickering candle. It was a little spooky because … the PLAGUE! And the deserted street! And how did that flickering candle get in there?

Wendy and Maria were discussing all this when they realized Belinda was no longer with them.

WHERE WAS BELINDA?!

“Belinda, where are you?” they hissed. And because of the ancient stone streets and ancient stone walls and a 1630 Plague Chapel that provided a spooky echo, it was a very loud hiss.

“I’m up here,” Belinda hissed back. “I thought I’d run up this hill to see if the church is here.”

Wendy and Maria scrambled to catch up. Belinda was not going alone.

They walked uphill, alongside a cemetery behind a low, stone wall. The tombstones and crypts cast long shadows and, imagining all the plague victims buried there, Belinda, Wendy, and Maria picked up their pace.

And found the church! And a tiny grotto with a statue of the Virgin Mary!

But still no steeple.

Whatever. Belinda and Maria paused to pray a Hail Mary (in Italian) while Wendy (the non-Catholic) waited patiently. Truthfully, it was a very hurried prayer because, leaning against the front of the church and illuminated by a single streetlight, was a man. And given the deserted streets and lateness of the hour, a very suspicious-looking man.

“Drug dealer,” said Belinda.

“Doesn’t look good,” said Maria.

“I think we should get back,” said Wendy, the wisest of the three.

So, they walked back down the hill, past the cemetery, past the Plague Chapel, and back to the hotel where they discovered more than one text asking: WHERE ARE YOU??????!!!!!

Well, not in bed. Instead, Belinda, Wendy, and Maria took the hotel elevator to the rooftop. They had to see for themselves.

The church steeple.

It really did exist.

CHAPEL OF THE PLAGUE DEAD, 1630

(P.S. For those wondering … earlier, Maria mistakenly identified the church as the Church of St. Nicholas when it was, in fact, the Church of San Leonardo. She was right about the Plague Chapel but wrong about the church name. She was 50% right and 50% wrong, but still receives an A- because she is a big supporter of Funny Math.)

Speak to Me Sunday: There, and Here

 Last night I was sitting in Mass thinking how, two weeks ago, we were in Annecy (France), having just arrived as the church bells in town were ringing. And just last Sunday, we were in Munich (Germany) where we spent a lovely afternoon visiting the various churches near the Marienplatz. On both occasions I was struck by a sense of well-being.

That same feeling returned last night as I sat before Mass reflecting on our trip. I have received numerous texts and messages asking about the trip, how it went and what we saw, what was my favorite place or what we had purchased, but I find it hard to put two weeks of adventure (in which we did a LOT) into a coherent response. Where to begin?

And so, I will start with the churches.

While this trip to Alpine Europe was not a pilgrimage, in many ways it felt like one as we visited countless cathedrals, churches and chapels, all surrounded by majestic Alps and built for the glory of God, as places of refuge, and as visual reminders of a heavenly realm. Then, factor in all the preparation prior to the trip (the research on St. James Cathedral and the Mariahilf painting), all the guided tours sharing information about Cathedral architecture, paintings, and sculptures, as well as all the saints and martyrs nestled in niches and grottos or adorning altars. There was even a blessed few minutes spent in an Adoration Chapel at St. Peter’s Abbey in Salzburg, (something we just stumbled upon when we saw a large wooden door, opened it, and entered into the calmness of God’s presence), and a midnight walk in Lake Como to the church steeple we saw in the distance (which turned out to be the Basilica of St. Nicholas).  

All this to say, during our travels it was impossible to not feel the presence of God, and so in every cathedral, church, and chapel we entered, I lit a candle. Enveloped in the circle of light, with smoke drifting heavenward, my prayer was always the same: Thank you, God. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU.

Over and over again I prayed just those words, gratitude being the overriding emotion that spilled from a cup that was already overfilled.

Thank you, God. Thank you thank you THANK YOU for safety and wholeness, because despite a million and one things that could have gone wrong—missed flights, lost luggage, illness, accident, misplaced passports, bad weather—everything was going smoothly; for blind faith that I could get everyone from here, to there, and back home again; for the courage to leave behind loved ones and head out of the familiar and into the unknown, real and imagined; for the miraculous fact that I was in the Alps lighting a candle in a chapel, church, or cathedral.

So last night, sitting before the altar just before Mass began, my prayer was the same as it had been in Annecy, or Bellagio, or Innsbruck, or Salzburg.

Thank you, God. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU.

Because the world is a beautiful place.

Because we were there, 

and now we are here.

Amen.