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This Sunday morning, I had the pleasure of guiding a group of Italian tourists through the charming hilltop town of Montefiascone, a gem overlooking Lake Bolsena in northern Lazio. The day began bright and peaceful, but soon the sky turned grey and a light rain started to fall. Seeking shelter, we made our way down from the panoramic gardens at the top of the town toward the Cathedral of Santa Margherita—our next stop.
The cathedral is one of Montefiascone’s proudest landmarks, famous for its magnificent dome, designed by the Baroque architect Carlo Fontana. Its grand proportions make it one of the largest domes in Italy, and it dominates the skyline with elegance and strength.
When we arrived, however, Mass was still being celebrated, so we couldn’t enter the main church just yet. Instead, I decided to lead the group to a quieter, lesser-known place: the crypt beneath the cathedral.
Built in the 14th century, the crypt is the most ancient part of Santa Margherita. Down there, away from the noise of the rain and the bustle of town life, time seems to slow. The air feels thick with history and reverence. Visiting such spaces always brings a sense of mystery—they remind us of the delicate link between life and death, faith and memory.
At the center of the crypt lies a glass sarcophagus containing the body of Saint Lucy Filippini. She was a young woman of deep faith and determination who lived in the 17th century. Moved by a strong vocation, she dedicated her short life to educating girls, particularly those from poor families, at a time when women had very few opportunities for learning. Her vision and compassion were supported by Cardinal Marco Antonio Barbarigo, who now rests in another sarcophagus facing hers.
Standing in that quiet crypt, surrounded by centuries of devotion, I couldn’t help but reflect on the enduring impact of Saint Lucy’s mission. Her legacy lives on: to this day, many schools around the world bear her name, continuing her work by providing education and support to those in need.
As we climbed back up to the cathedral, the rain began to ease, and the town glistened in the soft light breaking through the clouds—a fitting end to a visit filled with beauty, faith, and reflection.
