The Battenti of Guardia Sanframondi: Faith in Their Hands

In Guardia Sanframondi, in the heart of Sannio, faith is made flesh and manifests through a universal and poignant language: that of the hands. Every seven years, an entire community gathers for the Seven-Year Rites of Penitence, a centuries-old heritage that goes beyond mere tradition. This reportage doesn't focus on dates or events, but on the profound meaning of every single gesture. It's a journey that explores how devotion, penance, and community bonds take shape in a touch, a grasp, an act of offering.

Hands, Blood, and Silence: Faith Made into Gesture

The hands are the true thread of this story, the means by which the Battenti communicate their profound state of mind, remaining veiled and unknown to the crowd. The figure of the Battente is not just that of a penitent, but of a faithful individual who has chosen to offer their body as an instrument of atonement. The Rites are a spiritual journey, a solemn vow made to the Madonna Assunta to ask for a grace. Every strike, every act of penitence, is an expression of prayer, a way to unite one's own pain with that of Christ. It's not an act of self-harm, but an offering made with the soul and the body, in a mystical union that transcends pure physicality. Pain in this context is purification, a means to reach a higher and more profound spiritual dimension.

The Silent Story of Sacrifice

In the photographs, you will see hands that carry the weight of penance, gripping the instruments of sacrifice: the crown of thorns, rosaries, crucifixes. These are hands that are stained with blood, grasping the sponge of pins to inflict the wound, while others offer wine to disinfect, in a ritual that is at once pain and healing..

You will see reflective and penitent hands, moving with precise intent, sometimes alone in the space among the hooded crowd, other times beating their chests in unison in an act of collective sacrifice. You will see the strength in the hands that support the statue of the Virgin, and the humility in those that join together in silent prayer. Each gesture tells a story of deep devotion, an intimate and unbreakable pact between the faithful and their protecting Virgin.

These are calloused hands, the hands of simple people, the hands of sons and fathers, who pass this rite down from generation to generation. It is they, with their gestures, who tell the story of a faith that lives and is renewed, that attracts pilgrims and draws emigrants back home, uniting the entire community in a single, powerful collective prayer.

In an era of frenzy and distraction, these hands remind us that faith is a tangible act, a story that is passed down, a gesture of love that can be transmitted from one hand to another, from generation to generation. This is the true legacy of the Seven-Year Rites of Guardia Sanframondi.

Giampiero D’Antonio

Warning: Some content may offend your sensibilities

Habemus Papam, Leo XIV

The white smoke rises above Rome, a roar of joy erupts from St. Peter's Square, the epicenter of an uncontainable emotion. Not mere faithful, but a human wave from every corner of the globe, united in a collective embrace, witnessing and experiencing a historical event. In their eyes, wonder merges with devotion, as their voices join in a chorus of prayers and hopes, invoking that precious gift that the whole world yearns for: Peace.

The choice of the name "Leone" resonates as a powerful echo of the past, evoking figures of Popes who guided the Church with strength and wisdom in tumultuous times. A weighty and glorious spiritual heritage that now rests on the shoulders of Peter's successor, called to take up the mantle in an era of epochal challenges, where the need for harmony and brotherhood becomes ever more urgent.

The incredible rapidity of the election, which took place on the second day of the conclave, amplifies the sense of the extraordinary moment. Almost a divine sign, an intervention that instills courage and confidence in a world marked by divisions and uncertainties. As the new Pontiff appears on the balcony, blessing the festive crowd, the palpable sensation of a new beginning fills the air, of a journey of hope that opens up for all humanity, a journey illuminated by the promise of Peace.

Pope Francis: Miserando atque eligendo

I feel deep sorrow in writing these few lines in memory of Pope Francis, An intensely powerful emotion that one feels when a beloved friend, whom you have always cared for deeply, is lost.

The Pope who came from the end of the world, and who lived this world firsthand with the least among us, has bid us farewell. He did so discreetly, without long waits and without too much clamor. A death that occurred the day after Easter, the day after once again seeing and embracing his people.

I too was there that March night in 2013, among the crowd of people in St. Peter's Square, all excited at the sight of the white smoke and all enthusiastic about the first Latin Pope in the history of the Church, upon whom hopes for the reform of a Church adrift were immediately placed.

Already in the choice of his name, the path he would take and with what weapons he would face it was visible, Francis, like the patron saint of Italy, the poor saint from Assisi, and he honored that name to the end.

His last visit was to the Regina Coeli prison on his last Holy Thursday, where about seventy inmates of different languages and colors awaited him. "This year I liked coming to prison to do as Jesus did, it is not possible for me to perform the washing of feet, but I can and want to be close to you. I pray for you and for your families," he told the inmates. He never shied away from the pain of those living in extreme and brutal conditions.

Pope Francis's first official visit was to Lampedusa, the southernmost border of Italy, in July 2013, where desperate men arrive on makeshift boats, when they do not perish in the crossing, only to realize that they are not welcome here.

In his first and last outing as Pope lies the entire meaning of his pontificate: always standing on the side of the least, not only with words but also and especially with example.

He was loved by many, by believers, by laypeople, as well as by atheists, who saw in him, first and foremost, the depth of the man, fascinated by his rectitude, his humility, and his courage. In a world dominated by opportunism, arrogance, and bullying, he left us a clear message: never be afraid to raise your voice against abuses and injustices. He loved to repeat that there is only one moment in life when it is permissible to look down on others, when you help them to get up.

At Pope Francis's funeral were present powerful figures and heads of state. But I like to think that, ideally, migrants, the poor, the homeless, inmates, the least of the earth whom no one ever deems worthy of attention, whom he instead always cared for, were there from around the world to bid Pope Francis farewell.

Buon viaggio Francesco