St Rita of Cascia | The Disfigured Saint Who Impacted the World You’ll Love

“You don’t have to wait in this long line,” Dorine insists. The cue of the hopeful strings around the inside of the basilica, starting at the entrance and going all the way to the front altar and then to the left transom where the body of St. Rita lies. It’s moving at a snail’s pace.

“You could just walk up to St. Rita right there,” she directs. I don’t want to be a tourist and “bud in line.” I want to wait in line and move at the pace of a snail to get a feeling for the basilica. Would I sense the Holy Spirit in the place?

Description of the tomb of St Rita of Cascia

The slow-moving cue allows me time to observe the basilica. I gaze upward at the cupola. Modernistic depictions of Jesus, angels and flying nuns embellish the ceiling. The place was built between 1937 and 1947, so the frescos reflect the concentrated color style of the time. I prefer Renaissance art found in Florence or the simplistic renderings of Giotto in Assisi. Here, the figures’ shapes were stroked in angles rather than curves, and the colors were harsh primary colors. Dare I say that the décor above is almost ugly?

So I shift my concentration to the beauty of the rose-lined altar as the line creeps by it. I am half the way to St. Rita. Vases of roses surround the altar, line the stairs leading up to the altar and crowd the floor so near me that I could smell their sweet aroma.

As Johnnie said, the rose is the symbol of St Rita of Cascia, so on her feast day, the faithful bring roses on their pilgrimage to the basilica. Did I mention that it is by dumb luck—or divine intervention—that Dorine and I happen to arrive on May 21, the day before the festival of St Rita?

The incorrupt body of St Rita of Cascia has been interned here since 1947 when the basilica was completed. Her body was never buried but kept in a humble chest after she died in 1457 and later transferred to a stone sarcophagus. Now, her cadaver rests in a glass coffin, and I am getting close enough to see her.

St Rita of Cascia is often portrayed with a bleeding wound on her forehead. When she was around 60 years old, the gash appeared while meditating in front of a crucifix. Considered a partial Stigmata, the wound still had drops of blood when nuns bathed St Rita of Cascia’s body for burial years later and again when her body was examined for beatification.

Walking over to Dorine, who waits patiently, I examine my fellow worshippers. No one appears ugly. In fact, many good-looking couples and families are lighting candles, praying and hugging.

While we walk the streets of Cascia and the nearby village of Roccaporena, St. Rita’s hometown, I see young people in powered wheelchairs, women with canes and older folks in mobility scooters. They look as if they could be at the festival to pray for lost or impossible causes. The faith and hope on their faces make them quite beautiful.

It seems as if Jesus is showing me how he sees these people and revealing that, indeed, there are no ugly people in God’s sight.

If you don’t have a friend to drive you to Casia in a sporty car, then hire a friend. I found this private tour of Cascia from Rome on one of my trusted tour sites.