Heavenly Movements?

 

Our Fiat Bianca

Heavenly Movements? 

     With five long hours of travel still ahead of us, the dreaded engine light, shaped like an ominous tiny engine, suddenly blinked on.  We groaned in unison.  Our second-hand, stick-shift Fiat, affectionately nicknamed Bianca, came without a manual, but that glowing icon needed no translation.  Pull over—immediately.

Panic prickled under the surface.  We were far from Calitri, with many miles yet to go.  I knew enough to recognize the warning: something needed urgent attention.  It felt like the car’s version of an engine firelight on a B-52, except this time, I didn’t have spare engines in reserve.

I prayed it was something minor like a loose gas cap.  Bianca seemed fine, no strange noises or vibrations, and the temperature gauge held steady.  That had to be a good omen, right?  Still, we had no choice but to exit the highway in search of help.  But where?  And how?  Ironically, aiuto, the Italian word for "help," looks a lot like the word auto.  Changing course, we turned off the A14 coastal motorway just north of Pescara, our hearts pounding, hoping for a small miracle.  

Maria Elena searched Google Maps while I found a place to stop and popped the hood.  The oil was normal, not that it told me much, but it was a start.  For a fleeting moment, I entertained the thought

Engine Warning Light

that there might be something to the derogatory acronym for FIAT, “Fix It Again, Tony!”  What we really needed was a garage, not doubt. 

Pulling into a nearby gas station, the attendant gestured toward a Hyundai dealership across the street.  A sliver of hope, a prayer answered?  No luck.  Predictably, they only dealt with their own models and didn’t have the diagnostic tools for a Fiat.  But kindness prevailed when the service manager looked up the address of a nearby FIAT dealer just a few winding miles away.  Our GPS took over from there.

As we got closer, I overshot, and an elderly gentleman on foot pointed us back on course.  Within minutes, we pulled into the busy lot of the FIAT dealer.  Even without an appointment, we were waved straight into the garage after explaining our plight.  Perhaps being stranieri (foreigners) helped.  In any case, the manager conferred with a mechanic, and before we had time to settle our nerves, Bianca was hooked up to the Italian equivalent of an automotive EKG. 

Minutes later, we had the diagnosis: good news.  No catastrophic failure, just a warning from the engine’s sensors and a glitch they’d seen before.  We had a fuel injector issue.  No immediate danger, just some internal clogging, dirty arteries, so to speak.  After resetting the warning light, the mechanic, as best I could understand him, counseled that a cleaning was needed.  Something on the order of a car’s dose of Lipitor would do the trick.  We exhaled.  Just like that, after barely thirty minutes, we were back on the road.  The best part?  When I went back to pay, the manager smiled and waved me off.  No charge.

When the light reappeared with four freeway hours yet to go, we didn’t flinch.  This time, we remained calm.  We understood the problem and kept driving.  What had begun as a stomach-tightening detour, complete with visions of overnight stays and expensive repairs, had dissolved with a smile and a handshake.  What could have been a breakdown instead became a quiet affirmation of something we’ve experienced time and again in Italy: their kindness.  Italy has a way of taking your worry and transforming it into peace of mind.  Over the course of twenty years, we’ve come to appreciate the warm, personal hospitality that seems woven into the fabric of everyday life.  It’s typical, yes, but always unexpected in a beautiful way.  

Back home, a simple diagnostic check might run a hundred dollars or more and be delivered with clinical detachment.  In Italy, no social media, no need for five-star ratings, just real, caring people willing to help.  Generosity, kindness, and

Casablance Hotel Terrace View

a knack for turning anxiety into a sense of peace are commonplace.  Again and again, we’re reminded: it is her people who make the difference.  And yet, after the experiences of the past few days, I couldn’t shake the sense that more than just Italian hands were guiding us.  This impression was especially bolstered since this journey, after all, wasn’t only a road trip.  It was, in its own way, a pilgrimage, echoing a tradition that stretches back centuries. And on pilgrimages, miracles tend to follow.  Or maybe, more accurately, we become better at noticing them.

We’d been away for three days, staying at the family-run Casablanca Hotel in Civitanova Marche, a town in the Marche region of Italy.  It had been quiet, rural, and deeply relaxing, especially while sipping the estate’s wine seated on our terrace balcony, taking in sweeping views of the sea, olive groves, lush gardens, a Tuscan-style landscape that seemed to undulate on forever, and an outdoor pool shimmering below.

Our accommodation was unexpectedly high-tech.  It featured a ‘jacuzzi’ which turned out to mean a sophisticated shower rather than the hot tub we’d so anticipated.  We’d enjoyed the thought at least. 

Our Uncontrollable Jacuzzi

Instead, an array of wall nozzles greeted us, along with mood lighting in a rainbow of colors, built-in speakers for your choice of music, and mysterious controls with symbols that looked more like hieroglyphics than anything useful.  What would have been helpful would have been instructions.  Not surprisingly, like our missing Fiat manual, there were none.  I tinkered with the controls until steam became so dense I could barely see.  I was beginning to worry that I wouldn’t be able to see well enough to shut it off.  I imagined how embarrassed I’d have been to call for someone's help.  I wouldn’t let it get that far.  I wasn’t about to stay enough days to master the system, so my wrinkling fingers would have to serve as ample warning that it was time to “shut her down.”  Besides, we weren’t there for a soak, or in our case, a full-body spray wash.  No, our objective was to visit the Holy House of Loreto, located approximately 20 km from the hotel.  The Holy House is a famous religious site Maria Elena recently discovered, which had been waiting for us since 1296.  

Bramante's Marble Enclosure of
Mary's Holy House

         The Holy House (Santa Casa) of Loreto, relocated from Nazareth, is believed to be the house where Mary was born and raised, and where the Angel Gabriel announced to her that she would be the mother of Jesus (The Annunciation).1  Over the centuries, an estimated four million visitors have visited this shrine each year.  Today, Loreto is the foremost shrine of the Virgin Mary in Christendom.1  Some pilgrims, as a sign of their reverence to the Virgin Mary, engage in a devotional practice of making their way around the Holy House on their knees three times.  So many millions have performed this prayerful act over the centuries that two shallow troughs have been worn into the stone floor.

It stands today, enclosed by a richly decorated marble facade beneath the dome of the large Basilica of Loreto, built in 1469.  Italian Renaissance architect Donato Bramante designed the surrounding structure that encloses the Holy House.  With its half-columns, friezes, statues, and high reliefs, this ivory-hued marble sheathing depicts scenes from the Bible and the legends surrounding the Virgin Mary. ²

Inside, visitors view the remains of a modest, one-room building.  Its lower walls are made of stone, with bricks added higher up.  A small marble altar is topped by a crowned statue of the Madonna

Inside The Holy House (Santa Casa) of Loreto  

dressed in a gold-embroidered robe holding the infant Jesus.³  Traces of 14th-century frescoes depicting Our Lady and the Apostles are still visible on the walls, and gilt oil lamps hang along the sides.²  We stood there among other visitors who lined the perimeter quietly and reverently, some kneeling before the altar, while all maintained a respectful silence.

We first became familiar with Mary’s birthplace and home when we visited Nazareth in northern Israel in 2014 (read archived May 2014 Star in the East blog).  It was in the massive two-story Basilica of the

Basilica of the Annunciation Nazareth, Israel

Annunciation that we saw the three-sided foundation of what is believed to be the traditional Nazareth home of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.  The only side that remained was the hillside opening of a cave, which had completed the home.  When compared with the dimensions of the Loreto House, which stands firmly, without its foundation in Italy today, it matches perfectly.³ 

The Annunciation occurred in Nazareth in the Holy Land, not in Loreto where Mary’s home stands today.  The obvious question is how it came to be in Italy.  To this day, it remains a mystery, fraught with controversy for some and a matter of faith for others.  In answer to this ‘HOW’, I find it interesting that there are

multiple competing explanations that address its arrival.

According to tradition, the Holy House was miraculously transported by angels from Nazareth to Loreto, Italy, in 1291, after the last Christian stronghold in the Holy Land, Acre, fell to the Saracens, and was believed to be in danger of desecration.

Yet according to the website, Sacred Sites, analysis of literary sources indicates that the transport of Santa Casa happened by sea, not through the assistance of angels.  The claim is that during the medieval period of Christian history, it was common for monks and crusaders to be called ‘angels’ by the ordinary people, thus explaining the legend of ‘angels’ flying the house from the Holy Land to Loreto. ⁴

A derivative of the play on “angels” claims that a family from Epirus named “Angeli” dismantled the house and transported it brick by brick at the request of the Crusaders.  That family, whose name sounds much like ‘angel,’ then rebuilt the house in Loreto.³  A similar theory holds that when the Crusaders were ousted from Palestine, they took stones from the Nazareth house with them, and these relics somehow ended up on the Adriatic coast.  A Greek or Byzantine family, whom the Latins called ‘Angelos’ or ‘De Angelis’, is supposed to have been involved in shipping the stones to Italy, which evolved into the story of the flights of angels.²

Another report claims that a crusader named Nikola Frankopan sent a delegation to Nazareth to measure the foundations, as he had presumably only the stones in his possession, not whole walls.  He then rebuilt the Holy House.  Later, the Frankopan family gave the House to the Pope, and, as the nearest Papal lands were near Ancona, Italy, the House was transported there and placed in Loreto.⁵

Both factions agree that the Loreto shrine originated in the region of Nazareth.  Archaeological evidence and documents uncovered in 1962 suggest that the stones and bricks are kept together with a mortar whose physical and chemical composition is found only in Palestine, precisely in the region of Nazareth.  Its cedar construction materials are nonexistent in the Marche region or anywhere else in Italy.  Analysis of the flower pollen particles found on the structure indicates they are of the type typically found in Nazareth.  It is also asserted that the stones of the Holy House are unlike any to be found in the Marches region but are like those quarried in Palestine.²   More complicated still would be cutting the walls into segments and taking them intact on the journey, and then joining them back together without leaving traces of the new mortar joints. 

    Over the ensuing years, either by divine or human intervention, the Holy House was relocated multiple times:

In 1291, it arrived from Nazareth in Tersatto (now Trsat, a suburb of Rijeka, Croatia) on the Adriatic coast.⁵ 

In 1294, the Holy House disappeared from Croatia and landed “in various places” in Italy.  For nine months, it stayed on a hillside overlooking the port of Ancona, which came to be called “Posatora,” meaning “to set down”, or “land and pray.” ³

In 1295, after nine months in Posatora, the Holy House moved to a laurel forest that belonged to a woman named Loreta, near the town of Recanati.  Either her name or the laurel forest accounts for the name Loreto.³

Between 1295 and 1296, after spending eight months in its forest location, the Holy House was transported to a farm on Mount Prodo belonging to two brothers of the Antici family.³

In 1296, after four months at the Antici farm, the Holy House departed and landed on a public road on Mount Prodo connecting Recanati to Ancona, where it remains today.³

Devout followers believe angels performed all these movements.  But why would divine intervention make so many moves?  Nine months, move, and four months later, move again?  More likely in my mind, papal, political, or monetary decisions were the primary forces behind the multiple movements.  It may also have been a blend of both.

Non-believers point out that no hint can be found in historic records of the miraculous disappearance of any building in Nazareth in the 13th century.  They claim these movements were led by men, initially crusaders.  As a counterargument, believers point out that there are also no historical reports of the team of men obviously needed to support such a shipment, the likely hasty dismantling

Aviator Plaque Inside Basilica

that would have been necessary, its transport to the sea, or its shipment. 

Approaching the Basilica, we noticed posters and plaques related to aviation along with a full-size military aircraft on display.  Their presence became clear when I inquired in a gift shop and learned that in 1920, Pope Benedict XV declared "Our Lady of Loreto” the patroness of aviators (‘human angels’) and air travelers.  Each year, groups of pilots gather at the shrine to celebrate, pray, and give thanks for safe flights. 

While researching this story, I discovered that a small statue of Mary accompanied Charles Lindbergh on his solo flight across the Atlantic.  When it clanked against the control panel, he claimed it startled him awake and saved his life.  Equally enlightening was learning that a silver “Our Lady of Loretto” medallion was taken aboard the 1969 Apollo 9 Mission by Astronaut James McDivitt. ¹

There is another startling reveal connected with Loreto, unrelated to how it came to be there.  After we visited Mary's 

Our Lady of Loreto Medallion

home in Israel, we remained unaware of the Holy House of Loreto for many years.  Only much later did we learn of Loreto's existence and a man named Zimmer.  Not the Zimmer of the musical world, but Thomas Zimmer, an American World War II veteran, layman, and devout Marian follower, who lived as a hermit in Loreto during the 1980s.  Over the years, he claimed to receive numerous visions, but none so astonishing as the one he shared in 1983 concerning Donald J. Trump.

Father Giacomo Capoverde posted a video in 2017.  It features a discussion about his friend, Dr. Claude Curran, a psychiatrist, and recounts Curran’s conversation with Tom Zimmer in 1983 in St. Peter’s Square.  Intrigued and skeptical, Curran asked Zimmer directly about the vision.  Zimmer shared what he had seen: that Donald Trump would one day lead America back to God.  Startled, Dr. Curran pressed him. “The New York Playboy?” he asked, incredulous.  This was, after all, the Trump of the tabloids: flamboyant, wealthy, and known more for his celebrity than any spiritual leaning.  In response, Zimmer said, “Right now in the United States, there’s a man
who has the hand of God on him.  He has the IQ of a genius and a first-class education.  And everything he approaches, he attacks with a blind efficiency.”  Doctor Curran emphasized again, “Still unconvinced, he pushed again: “But Tom, he’s a jet-setting playboy millionaire—he dates Hollywood

Thomas Raymond Zimmer

starlets.  He’s always in the news with the glitterati.”  Standing firm, Zimmer replied, “No, Claude, I’m telling you the hand of God is on him, and God is going to use him in the future.” ⁶  

Whether one believes in divine prophecy or not, the failed campaign assassination attempt on Donald Trump has led many to see the hand of God at work.  To some, it was more than luck; more like a form of protection.  Now President Trump himself has called the event a miracle: a slight turn of the head at just the right moment allowed the bullet to miss its mark by millimeters, grazing his ear instead of striking a fatal blow.  Like the controversy surrounding The Holy House of Loreto, bathed in fog like the baffling jacuzzi controls of our hotel shower, this moment leaves room for speculation.  Regardless of political belief, the question lingers: Was this a modern-day miracle, or merely an eerie coincidence witnessed by millions in real time?  Skeptics may dismiss Zimmer’s vision as the ramblings of a misguided zealot or a hoax.  However, what is undeniably true is that Thomas Zimmer was a deeply devout man who spent years as a hermit in Loreto, worshipping daily at the Holy House.  To many who knew him, he was a prophet.  [Click Prophesy to view the Zimmer video.].

From the Basilica of Loreto, we wound our way to the nearby Conero Riviera, nestled between the towns of Sirolo and Numana, where we lingered over a late lunch at the elegant Enoteca della Rosa, a seafood haven perched on a garden terrace

Enoteca della Rosa Terrace Overlooking the Conero Riveria

high above the Adriatic.  Shaded by the generous canopy of a mature tree, we sipped a remarkable white, ‘Salmariano’ by Marotti Campi, Italy’s luminous answer to Riesling.  We let the wine and the moment spirit us away.  As ancient bell towers tolled the slow passing of the hours and twilight cast its golden hush across the coastline, we found ourselves reflecting on the day’s journey, turning over its mysteries, and searching for meaning in what we had seen and felt.

What really happened there?  The story of the shrine felt shrouded, mystified in the mist of time, yet somehow laced with the sharp edge of modern prophecy.  And now, part of that mystery may be unfolding in real time.  Whether born of fact, misinterpretation, or sheer invention, both the tale of the house’s miraculous flight and the Zimmer prophecy teeter in a delicate balance between belief and dismissal.  The question of how the sacred house came to rest in Loreto may never be fully resolved.  Yet time has a way of parting veils.  Perhaps one day, time may yet reveal whether Zimmer’s vision was a mere dream or something more.  Fortunately, this is an instance where certainty, beyond a reasonable doubt, isn’t the measure.  Regardless of extant proof, in this realm of the sacred and the strange, mystery itself may be the invitation, and faith, the only passport required.

From That Rogue Tourist,
Paolo

1. Holy House of Loreto, https://sacredsites.com/europe/italy/.html

2. Italy’s Loreto Offers Vistas-and-a Legend, https://www.nytimes.com/1989/06/18/travel/italy-s-loreto-offers-vistas-and-a-legend.html

3. Science Confirms: Angels Took the House of Our Lady of Nazareth to Loreto, https://www.tfp.org/science-confirms-angels-took-the-house-of-our-lady-of-nazareth-to-loreto/

4. The Holy House of Loreto, https://sacredsites.com/europe/italy/holy_house_of_loreto.html

5. Trsat, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trsat

6. YouTubeVideo: https://youtu.be/lyV7kwMRzdo?si=6tOJdczqrk8E62av