New Book — Saint Benedict, Montecassino, and the Crisis of Ninth-Century Southern Lombards in Early Medieval Cassinese Memory

A new title that may be of interest to our readers. Available at Amazon.com

• Saint Benedict, Montecassino, and the Crisis of Ninth-Century Southern Lombards in Early Medieval Cassinese Memory by Luigi Andrea Berto

Publisher: Routledge
Pub. Date: May 30, 2026
Hardback: $142.50
Kindle $61.99
Language: English
Pages: 146

Read description

Click here to see more books

Listing does not imply endorsement

Fourth Sunday after Pentecost at Our Lady of Sorrows Church in Jersey City, New Jersey

The Dancing Mænad of Tarentum

Terracotta statuette of a woman, probably
a mænad, Greek, South Italian,
Tarentine, late 3rd-2nd century B.C.

Among the most evocative survivals of Magna Graecia are the terracotta figures produced in the workshops of Tarentum (modern Taranto), the great Greek city of Apulia in Southern Italy. This small statuette of a woman—probably a mænad, a female devotee of Dionysus—was fashioned in the late 3rd or early 2nd century B.C. and now resides in the collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Though modest in scale, the figure preserves something of the ecstatic and theatrical spirit associated with the cult of Dionysus in the ancient Mediterranean.

The woman appears suspended in movement. Her raised arm, flowing drapery, and forward step evoke ritual dance, as though she belongs to a sacred procession or ecstatic rite. The mænads of Greek tradition were companions of Dionysus, god of wine, frenzy, fertility, and divine intoxication.

Another view of the statuette

In poetry and art, they move through mountains and forests carrying torches, drums, or ivy, overcome by sacred frenzy and divine possession. South Italian artists, particularly those of Tarentum, frequently depicted such figures with a softness and lyricism distinct from the more restrained classical traditions of mainland Greece.

The statuette also reflects the broader artistic world of Hellenistic Southern Italy, where Greek religion, drama, and craftsmanship flourished centuries after the founding of the colonies of Magna Graecia. Terracotta figures like this were often placed in sanctuaries, tombs, or domestic shrines.

Their survival is remarkable precisely because they were made from humble clay rather than marble or bronze. Yet the fragility of the material forms part of the figure's charm. Time has worn away details, softened the colors, and broken the limbs, but the gesture remains. Across more than two millennia, the little dancer still appears caught between ritual and motion, between earthly form and ecstatic abandon.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, June 17th, Feast of Beata Teresa del Portogallo

Among the Nihilists

Not too long ago, a group of young people approached me about joining their nihilist-themed book club. Since it is rare to meet young people with any real intellectual interest—even when that interest takes a darker form—I agreed at once.

Years ago, we tried something similar, but it quickly fell apart. I wasn’t entirely sure how serious they were about this one, but I was willing to give it a try, even though the subject sat uneasily with my Catholic convictions. That tension, in fact, was part of what interested me.

There is some discipline in engaging with ideas one does not share. Grappling with them forces clarity—why one believes, and whether those beliefs can withstand pressure. You cannot be certain of standing on solid ground without testing it against opposition.

I was already familiar with some of the thinkers on their reading list, having read a good deal of E.M. Cioran and Giacomo Leopardi when I was their age. Still, I thought it might be worthwhile to revisit these ideas with them. I had also been meaning to explore Albert Camus further. I remembered liking The Stranger well enough back in school.

Our first book was The Myth of Sisyphus by Albert Camus, introducing his philosophy of the absurd: the idea that humanity’s search for meaning in a silent and indifferent universe creates a tension to be met not with suicide, but with conscious rebellion and passionate living.

Disappointingly, out of the original five of us, three have already dropped out; now there is only me and one other left—not much of a book club anymore. Enthusiastic as he seems, we shall see how long he stays. Strangely enough, the young lady who suggested the whole affair was the first to quit.

If nothing else, the exercise still offers a chance to read seriously, think carefully, and share ideas with someone else who still believes that ideas matter. That alone makes it worthwhile.

Our second selection will be Drawn and Quartered by E.M. Cioran.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, June 18th, Feast of San Calogero

Votive Mass for Unity in the Church and the Healing of Schism at the Shrine Chapel of the Blessed Sacrament in Raritan, New Jersey

Celebrating the Great Neapolitan Tenor Enrico Caruso in New York

Simona Frasca, Malina Mannarino, Prof. Giuliana Muscio, and Claudio Pagliara

On June 6, Director Claudio Pagliara welcomed the public to the inauguration of a new exhibition dedicated to the legendary Neapolitan tenor Enrico Caruso and his remarkable journey from Naples to New York and ultimately to the world stage. The evening featured a screening of the documentary Enrico Caruso, the Greatest Singer in the World—curated by Prof. Giuliana Muscio of the University of Padua for the Italian Ministry of Foreign Affairs—followed by the opening of Enrico Caruso: From Naples to New York, an exhibition first presented at the Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli in 2022.

The exhibition brings together rare photographs and historic recordings from the collections of the Istituto Centrale per i Beni Sonori e Audiovisivi. Curated by Prof. Muscio in collaboration with noted author and music historian Prof. Simona Frasca of the University of Naples, it traces Caruso’s rise from humble beginnings in Naples to international acclaim.

Prof. Muscio emphasized Caruso’s pivotal role in bringing opera to audiences throughout the Americas and described him as perhaps the first truly global celebrity. Long before the modern age of mass media, Caruso skillfully embraced emerging technologies such as film and the popular press to cultivate his public image. Muscio also noted that many remain unaware that Caruso appeared in a feature-length silent film and that the celebrated Neapolitan song Core ’Ngrato was composed in the United States by Cordiferro specifically for the tenor, reportedly inspired by the end of one of his romantic relationships.

Prof. Frasca highlighted another dimension of Caruso’s legacy: his pioneering use of recording technology. In addition to performing before audiences across Europe and the Americas, Caruso recorded both operatic arias and popular songs in multiple languages, allowing his voice to reach millions far beyond the concert hall.

Cav. Charles Sant'Elia with Simona Frasca and Prof. Stanislao Pugliese

Among the exhibition’s most notable artifacts are Caruso’s iconic slippers from Pagliacci, one of the sculptures he created for himself and friends, and several of the caricatures for which he was also widely admired.

The exhibition is the fourth of five musical initiatives promoted by the Istituto Italiano di Cultura of New York, in partnership with the United in Sound: America at 250 festival at Carnegie Hall. It will remain open to the public through August 31.

In addition to celebrating Caruso, Prof. Frasca discussed her new book, Mixed by Erri (Naples: Ad Est dell’Equatore, 2025), which examines the mixtape culture of 1980s Naples through the story of the Frattasio brothers. Far from being mere pirate music vendors, Frasca argues, the brothers were innovative DJs and cultural mediators who creatively blended Neapolitan and American musical influences for a devoted audience.

~ Cav. Charles Sant’Elia

Reflections at the Jacques Marchais Museum (Part 2)

See Part 1

One of the most striking aspects of the Jacques Marchais Museum of Tibetan Art is not found within its galleries, but in the grounds themselves. Winding stone paths, terraced gardens, meditation spaces, and rustic stonework give the impression of a remote Himalayan retreat hidden within Staten Island.

Yet behind this Tibetan sanctuary stood the labor and craftsmanship of a remarkable group of local builders, many of them Italian immigrants or the sons of immigrants. Chief among them was master stonemason Joseph Primiano (1895-1967), who worked closely with Jacques Marchais to transform her vision into reality.

Born in Vinchiaturo, a small town in the province of Campobasso in Molise, Southern Italy, Primiano immigrated to the United States in 1912 at the age of sixteen. Settling on Staten Island, he brought with him the skills and traditions of the old-country stonemason. Together with a team that included fellow Italian workers and craftsmen, he helped construct the museum’s distinctive buildings, terraces, stairways, and gardens, leaving an enduring Southern Italian imprint upon one of America’s most remarkable Tibetan cultural institutions.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, June 15th, Feast of San Vito

Francesco II of Bourbon Continues His Journey Toward the Altars

Francesco II di Borbone, ora pro nobis

I am pleased to share a recent update regarding the Cause of Beatification and Canonization of His Majesty Francesco II di Borbone, the last King of the Two Sicilies. As many devotees of the saintly sovereign know, efforts to advance his cause have been underway for several years. This article at Il Quotidiano della Costiera (IQDC) provides an overview of the canonical process currently being followed by the Church to examine his life, the heroic practice of the Christian virtues, his reputation for holiness, and any signs attributed to his intercession.

Among the important developments discussed are the formal appointment of a Postulator in 2019 and the favorable disposition expressed by the Archdiocese of Naples in 2020 to proceed with opening the cause. The Holy See has since requested an additional procedural step through the Campanian Bishops’ Conference before the diocesan phase of the investigation can officially begin. Once opened, this phase will gather and examine evidence both for and against the cause, allowing for a thorough and rigorous evaluation of Francesco II’s life of Christian virtue.

Should the Church ultimately recognize the heroic nature of his virtues, Francesco II would be declared Venerable. The recognition of a miracle attributed to his intercession would then be required for beatification, followed by a second miracle for canonization.

The original article is in Italian. I encourage all those devoted to the memory of Francesco II and interested in the progress of his Cause to read it in full:

Francesco II di Borbone, prosegue il cammino verso gli altari: lo stato dell’iter canonico

May God grant that the Church be able to fully examine the life and virtues of this faithful Catholic king, whose dignity in exile, fidelity in suffering, and unwavering devotion to Christ continue to inspire many throughout the former Kingdom of the Two Sicilies and beyond.

Reflections at the Jacques Marchais Museum (Part 1)

See Part 2

The other day, an artist friend took me to the Jacques Marchais Museum of Tibetan Art in Staten Island. Designed in the style of the Potala Palace in Lhasa—the historic mountain monastery and seat of the Dalai Lama—the museum houses one of the most significant collections of Tibetan, Mongolian, and Northern Chinese art in the West. Quiet and contemplative, it was a place I had long intended to visit.

Walking through its verdant grounds and galleries stirred memories of my twenties, when I was immersed in Eastern traditions and art. In those years, I was deeply moved by the Tibetan struggle for Rangzen—independence—which gained considerable momentum in New York City during the mid-to-late ‘90s and carried with it a spirit of cultural preservation and sacrifice.

Still seeking God at the time, I was also drawn to understanding—and, through an Occidental lens, embodying—the ideals of Zen and Vajrayana Buddhism, Taoism, and bushidō.

Though I ultimately ceased pursuing those Eastern paths, returning instead to the Catholic faith and a tradition more fully my own, my admiration for Oriental art and aesthetics has never left me. Nor have I lost my appreciation for the many virtues that first drew me to them: asceticism, martial virtue, honor, self-mastery, and spiritual discipline.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, June 15th, Feast of San Vito