Glacial Errata, No. 52

[Editor’s Note: I’m just back from two weeks in Italy—Milan, Turin, Venice, and Bologna specifically—and just a head’s up that there will probably be a LOT of fun Italy content in the weeks to come. I’ll try to space it out a bit so it’s not too much all at once.]

One

The Church of Geremia and Lucia in Venice houses most (but by no means all) of the remains of St. Lucy (most of the rest are in Syracuse, Sicily). Long undisturbed in Sicily, her remains were at some point broken up, and several of her relics were removed to various points—at one point ending up in Constantinople before being brought to Venice. There, they were kept on a monastery on one of the outlying islands, until a boat of pilgrims on their way to venerate her capsized and was lost. For safety reasons, they were then transferred to the Church of Santa Lucia, which was later demolished to make way for the train station, which is how they ended up, finally, in the Church of San Geremia.

In iconography, she is usually recognized by the plate that she holds, on which are her own eyes.

Two

Two main stories circulate as to how Lucy lost her eyes. According to one tradition, they were gouged out by her Roman torturers when she refused to renounce Jesus Christ. According to another, she pledged her life and chastity to Christ, but was beset by a suitor who repeatedly complimented her eyes as being singularly beautiful. Wishing to be rid of him, she gouged out her own eyes and gave them to the suitor.

Three

As the patron saint of sight, Lucy is also the patron saint of light, and her name shares an etymological connection to the Latin for light, lux. In many countries, she is celebrated as a bringer of light in darkness, particularly the darkness of winter.

Lucy’s feast day was originally celebrated on the darkest night of the year, though it was not always clear which day that was (it sometimes moved around before calendar reforms regulated it as December 21/22). So Saint Lucy’s Day is December 13—close, but not quite the darkest night of the year.

Four

I’m not religious, but I still hold fast to Saint Lucy, who is a patron for the darkest days, a light that can’t quite be extinguished even in the darkest times. And a reminder that the light will always eventually return.

Five

If you want to read more, I devoted an essay to Saint Lucy in my second book, Afterlives of the Saints: Stories from the Ends of Faith. There’s an excerpt of that piece up at Lapham’s Quarterly online.

In the meantime, though, here’s to hoping the year to come has a little bit more light, and a reminder that the light will always come back, even when it seems like things are the darkest.