Stories

In the 16th and 17th centuries, Oratorio dei Bianchi was home to the Compagnia del Santissimo Crocifisso — the “White Brothers”, who accompanied prisoners sentenced to death through the last three days of their lives. They talked to them, helped them make peace with their fate and their loved ones, accompanied them to their execution, and later took care of their burial.

They say the ceiling of the Cappella Palatina is a vision of paradise. Look up and you’ll see a heavenly palace: music, dancing, birds, hunting scenes, gardens and flowers — a whole world carved in the Arab tradition.

At the Oratorio di San Lorenzo, I was especially struck by the 17th-century benches — wood inlaid with ivory and mother-of-pearl, with carved legs, each showing a different scene. Then my eye caught a tiny inscription, Hospitalitas — “hospitality” — on one of the ten large sculptures. Each represents a different Christian virtue.

The Theatines had an unusual rule: they were forbidden to own land, earn an income or even beg for alms. They lived entirely on what people chose to give them. If there was no food one day, the monks simply fasted and waited — they called it complete trust in Divine Providence. Saint Cajetan, one of the founders of the order, was particularly strict about following this rule. He later became the patron saint of people looking for work and those facing financial difficulties.

For me, Casa Professa is the perfect way to explain the Sicilian word tascia: bright, excessive and a little showy. You walk inside and are overwhelmed by the sheer amount of Baroque. It’s the most “Baroque Baroque” I’ve ever seen in my life.

In 1969, a Caravaggio measuring 2.7 by 2 metres was stolen from the Oratorio di San Lorenzo. The thieves cut the painting out of its frame, loaded it onto an Ape and drove away. No one knows for certain what happened next: theories range from a Mafia commission to the painting being cut into pieces, or even damaged by rats and pigs.