By Cassidy Klein and Princess Jones
NEW YORK - Nestled between flashy carnival games, noisy food vendors and large, sweaty crowds, the small shrine of St. Gennaro glows and quietly blends in with the party atmosphere along Mulberry Street in New York’s Little Italy. The saint is decorated with layers of dollar bills, each symbolizing a prayer or wish someone has asked him to intercede for on their behalf. He holds up his delicate hand in an ever welcoming posture, watching the crowds while they eat, drink and go crazy in his honor.
One woman takes a giant bite of a glistening sausage sandwich that drips from its wrapping as she bows her head and crosses herself in front of the statue. An older man next to her takes a drag from his cigar and exhales — the smoke rising to meet St. Gennaro’s porcelain face like incense. For many faithful Catholics who attend the festival, such as Cythi Beniquez, the festival now borders on sacrilege. For others, it is seen as a sloppy—yet sincere—celebration of this first century martyr who is the patron saint of Naples, Italy.
Photo by Cassidy Klein
“People still have a great devotion to St. Gennaro, those who come out,” said Fr. Michael Bennett, a visiting priest who says mass during the festival. “Christianity depends on culture, and culture depends on history. The intermingling of culture and Christianity is seen with St. Gennaro, and it continues to evolve.”
The Festival of San Gennaro in New York City celebrated its 92nd year earlier this month. The first festival in the saint’s honor took place on Sept. 19, 1926 - his feast day on the Catholic calendar - when immigrants from Naples settled along Mulberry Street and continued to celebrate their patron just as they had done back home. The festival has grown from a one-day event to an 11-day extravaganza.
St. Gennaro was arrested and later beheaded for being a Christian. He died on Sept. 19 in the year 305 AD. In Naples, vials of the saint’s blood are exposed to the public and are said to miraculously liquefy. If the blood does liquefy, it is a sign of good luck. If it does not, there will be bad omens that year. This event happens three times each year (Dec. 16 and the first Sunday in May are the other two days). The blood did indeed liquefy this year.
Over the years, the Feast of San Gennaro has become more and more a feast—and less about the saint, limiting him to nothing more than a street decoration. The festival has become a symphony of church bells and trap music, cigarette smoke and incense, rosaries and carnival prizes, sausages and signs of the cross.
“I’m not familiar with the religious aspect of it, but I have noticed the face of the guy on the banners that they are celebrating,” said Sara Eisenberg, a 22-year-old New York native. “Is it the pope? I don’t know - something Catholic?”
Photo by Cassidy Klein
Eisenberg is Jewish and came solely for the food—which is plentiful. The strree is lined with vendors selling everything from pizza and pasta to fried Oreos and gelato.
“It’s an Italian tradition through and through,” said John Valune, a 26-year-old who has been attending the festival since he was 12. “And it has remained that way.”
The celebratory mass at Most Precious Blood Church had about 500 people in attendance this year. The crowded church was hot and humid. Clammy mass-goers fanned themselves with the programs as Bishop Gerald T. Walsh spoke with fiery conviction in his homily about being “faithful witnesses in a faithless time.”
Photo by Cassidy Klein
“On this night we honor Saint Gennaro and pray for his intercession so that we might be—not martyrs of blood—but martyrs for the faith,” he said. “So that we might live with joy, gratitude, gentleness, and compassion—the same gift he gave to Gennaro and to you and me.”
The mass was followed by a chaotic and musical street procession, with a small band leading the rowdy train as the golden figure of San Gennaro towered above the rows of vendors and people taking videos on their cell phones along Mulberry Street.
Bennett, who took part in the mass on Sept. 19, thinks “people are a little disconnected with the history of the festival,” although the faithful few have remained devoted and continue to be.
These faithful few, however, see the festival’s secular shift as saddening.
“We have been coming here for years and to see what it’s become now it’s just heartbreaking,” said Beniquez, who lingered in the church after the crowds had filtered out. “It’s more about the eating and drinking and partying and not so much about the religious component. Which is what the feast is about—it’s about celebrating the saint as well as the Catholicism. I guess because of the scandal that’s going on in the church, faith is diminishing and people are leaving the church. This is the result of it, churches are closing, and people don’t care anymore.”
Rafaela Beniquez, 69, who was sitting in the pew next to her family, looked at the candles adorning the Gennaro statue near the altar. The flicker of the candles’ yellow glow reflected in her teary eyes.
Photo by Cassidy Klein
“They get it all wrong, you don’t come to church because of the priest, church, or the statue,” she said. “You come in here because this is the temple of God and you come to adore him. If God came down from heaven right now, and was in front of you what would you do? You would kneel and fall on your knees because he is God.”
Throughout all these years, Father Bennett said, even if people are disconnect from the Saint and the history, the celebration will always be about love.
“As a martyr [Gennaro] completely gave of himself and that is the ultimate expression of love,” said Bennett. “A martyr gives everything, so that’s true love. And that’s why we celebrate St. Gennaro, we are celebrating true love as a sign of faith.”
Nilba Estrella, a 62-year-old who has attended the festival for years, is holding on to the sliver of faith still present at the Feast.
“We will become a testimony for the future,” she said. “Like the priest said, even though we are a handful, we have the faith. The rest doesn’t matter. We are here.”
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Princess Jones is a Multimedia Journalism major from Trevecca Nazarene University in Nashville Tenn.. She will be interning at the New York Amsterdam News, the oldest black newspaper in the country.
Cassidy Klein is a journalism and philosophy double major from Point Loma Nazarene University in San Diego, Calif. She will be interning at The Queens Ledger, a weekly community newspaper for Queens, NY.