It's hard to avoid the Maria Santissima del Lume while visiting Porticello. Some locals say that the so-called Virgin of the Light appeared to fishermen lost at sea in 1777, responding to their desperate prayers by shining a light to guide them safely back to shore. Others will share the story about the mysterious painting that hangs in Chiesa Di Maria Santissima Del Lume, attributing it to an 18th-century Jesuit priest, Father Giovanni Antonio Genovesi, who they say painted it under the Madonna's guidance. These are the stories my grandparents grew up with before they got married in that very church. Because of this, the Patroness of Porticello, her church, and the village's annual Festa played a significant role in The Last Letter from Sicily, a family-inspired story.
The sacred painting in Chiesa Di Maria Santissima Del Lume
Porticello is also the ancestral home of Giuseppe Sanfilippo, President of the San Diego-based Madonna del Lume Society of Our Lady of the Rosary, by way of his Sicilian immigrant parents. The organization kicks off its Madonna del Lume Novena Triduum, starting tonight, followed by a Sunday Festa Mass and light lunch.
Giuseppe maintains a strong connection to the Blessed Mother, whom he says continues to guide those who are "lost at sea" or otherwise in need of light.
"How many times in our lives, especially in these current times, have we been lost, confused, uncertain, or fearful?" Giuseppe shared with me during a conversation last year. "Whether we are fishermen at sea, laborers on land, or workers at home, this story gives each of us hope that there is always a light, no matter how dark, and there is always faith, no matter how hopeless our situation is."
Photo courtesy of La Società di Maria Santissima del Lume
The light has guided generations of immigrants from Porticello to the U.S. For 90 years, San Francisco has celebrated Festa della Madonna del Lume, a tradition brought to the city by La Società di Maria Santissima del Lume, founded by Sicilian women from Porticello. Their festivities include a Memorial Mass at the Fishermen's and Seamen's Chapel, a ceremony at sea to honor lost fishermen, a High Mass at Saints Peter & Paul in North Beach, and a grand procession to Fisherman's Wharf for the Blessing of the Fishing Fleet. It's a weekend of smiles, tears, music, and devotion to the Patroness whose illumination endures.
It was this light that carried Concetta and Gaetano of The Last Letter from Sicily (like my grandparents) through World War II, despite the ocean and instability between them.
Beneath a halo of Sicilian stars: Maria SS delle Grazie
Photo courtesy of Salvatore Coniglio
In Beneath the Sicilian Stars, Maria wears a Maria Santissima delle Grazie pendant, modeled after her namesake, whose statue was said to have been discovered by fishermen after it washed into a cove. Today, that sculpted depiction of the Madonna, holding the Christ child under a halo of stars, is displayed in Parrocchia Maria Santissima delle Grazie in Isola delle Femmine, another Sicilian fishing village. In the story, the Aiello matriarch clings to the necklace as her only link to what she left behind, beneath the Sicilian stars. The statue appears in the novel at a moment of illumination, symbolizing hope and new beginnings.
While I am no longer a practicing Catholic, the Madonna holds a special place in my novels. She serves as a symbol of comfort, compassion, sacrifice, and hope for those in need. I still wear her likeness, a necklace my Nonna once wore religiously (in both senses of that word); it reminds me of our shared stories and my personal connection with the place she once called home. It gives me comfort, knowing that even on the darkest days, I have that guiding light.
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