We drag a love sick cat with us to the island of Lipari. Theo doesn't want to leave Sorrento and Ms. Cow. We lure him with a promise of extra snacks and a peek into one of the most famous churches in the area, famous because of a thumb--a relic of a saint--that is now there.
Imagine--we are in the Tyrrhenian Sea with incredible views before we land on the largest island in the archipelago that sits offshore near Sicily. Theo is not interested in the view; he only wants to see the thumb.
We love the idea of visiting Lipari. Yes, we want to see the thumb--more on that in a minute--but we also want to see one of the best sides of Italy--unspoiled, less touristy, with narrow cobblestone streets, and raw balconies, the old intermingled with the new.
"Where is the thumb?" he wants to know.
We enter the Cathedral of St. Bartholomew, and Bart is everywhere.
One source says the thumb rests within a silver arm container for holy relics in the cathedral. It is only exposed for veneration during the feast days of the saint. What? We don't dare tell Theo that.
Another source says St. Bart's thumb rests within the red porphyry basin (a reddish purple rock, very rare, considered the royal rock) that supports the main altar of the Cathedral di San Bartolomeo. So that's where we're headed (with trepidation) to the main altar of the Cathedral.
"There it is," we say, keenly aware that Theo actually wants to see the thumb. Up close and personal. Maybe even sniff it. He doesn't want to imagine that the thumb is encased in some container that he can't see. He doesn't want to know there is a rope that prevents visitors from getting too close.
"First, you have to hear the story of St. Bartholomew so you'll have some appreciation of why his thumb is so important."
Theo gives us the stink eye.
We persevere: "Bartholomew was a preacher in Asia who converted many people to the Christian faith. That's why he was killed by the pagans in Armenia in the most horrific way. While he was still alive, they removed his skin. Then they beheaded him."
Theo is slightly interested. This is a story that he can appreciate--the sheer ghoulishness of it.
"The local people prayed to him and reported that there were miracles in his name. So the locals became more devoted which angered the pagans who then put Bartholomew's remains in a marble chest and threw it out to sea to get rid of him once and for all."
Theo yawns, but he's still listening.
"The chest didn't sink but instead floated on the top of the water and was carried by a current to Lipari. The local bishop, who was warned by an angel in a dream of Bartholomew's arrival, welcomed his remains. The local population, honored, decided to make St. Bartholomew the patron saint of the Aeolian Island."
Theo has closed his eyes. Is he asleep? Dan motions me to keep on talking. Maybe this is our way out. We'll just tell him he missed the thumb when he wakes up.
"So," I continue, "over the centuries, the people called on their patron saint to save them from earthquakes, plagues, and barbarian attacks. Then the remains were stolen and sent to Rome. But still the people believed. They took up a collection and built a silver statue in his honor in 1728 which is on the main altar of the Cathedral of St. Bartholomew. Today his thumb is the only relic that remains."
There is no one else in the Cathedral. We are standing in front of the altar. I feel bad for what we're about to do. Dan slowly lifts up a sleeping Theo and we leave.
As we are on our way back to our ship, Theo opens one eye.
"It's such a shame you missed the thumb, Theo."
Theo looks at me with a great deal of skepticism. I feel guilty.
"It wasn't that great. We hardly saw anything. In fact, come to think of it, I might have blinked and missed the thumb completely."
The poor boy looks disappointed.
And then a partial miracle happens. We pass by a bowl filled with stones, but not ordinary stones--pumice, which is what the island is also known for. "Look, Theo, pumice."
Yeah, it's not a thumb, but the kid has a chance to sniff the pumice, and we feel vindicated. Well, sort of.