One of the largest crowds ever assembled for a
canonization—250,000—symbolized the reaction of millions touched by the simple
story of Maria Goretti.
She was the daughter of a poor Italian tenant farmer, had no chance to go to
school, never learned to read or write. When she made her First Communion not
long before her death at age 12, she was one of the larger and somewhat backward
members of the class.
On a hot afternoon in July, Maria was sitting at the top of the stairs of her
house, mending a shirt. She was not quite 12 years old, but physically mature. A
cart stopped outside, and a neighbor, Alessandro, 18 years old, ran up the
stairs. He seized her and pulled her into a bedroom. She struggled and tried to
call for help. “No, God does not wish it," she cried out. "It is a sin. You
would go to hell for it.” Alessandro began striking at her blindly with a long
dagger.
She was taken to a hospital. Her last hours were marked by the usual simple
compassion of the good—concern about where her mother would sleep, forgiveness
of her murderer (she had been in fear of him, but did not say anything lest she
cause trouble to his family) and her devout welcoming of Viaticum, her last Holy
Communion. She died about 24 hours after the attack.
Her murderer was sentenced to 30 years in prison. For a long time he was
unrepentant and surly. One night he had a dream or vision of Maria, gathering
flowers and offering them to him. His life changed. When he was released after
27 years, his first act was to go to beg the forgiveness of Maria’s mother.
Devotion to the young martyr grew, miracles were worked, and in less than
half a century she was canonized. At her beatification in 1947, her mother (then
82), two sisters and a brother appeared with Pope Pius XII on the balcony of St.
Peter’s. Three years later, at her canonization, a 66-year-old Alessandro
Serenelli knelt among the quarter-million people and cried tears of
joy.
"Even if she had not been a
martyr, she would still have been a saint, so holy was her everyday life"
(Cardinal Salotti).
(This entry appears in the print
edition of Saint
of the Day.)
