Month: August 2025

This is the outside of the Abby of San Galgano. It once had great vaulted ceilings and a fairly high bell tower. I wanted to say towering, but ‘towering bell tower’ just seemed to be a redundant phrase. Over its centuries of existence, it rose to power in the area of Siena. As political power shifted, its somewhat isolated location made it a target for bandits and raiders. The correct term in this situation would be condottieri, Italian mercenaries, but I didn’t want anyone to have to look it up. Eventually, the towering bell tower came down, taking most of the vaulted ceiling with it. Yes, I used that phrase anyway. This aerial view of the abbey gives some perspective on the size of that roof that collapsed.

Previously, I told the story of why San Galgano put his sword into the stone. There is another story about that, one involving a mythical king. No, it’s not King Arthur, although it really should be. In any case, this mythical king was fed up with all the battles occurring throughout Italy. During a meeting with several of the Italian leaders, he drove his sword into stone as a symbolic act of peace. Whether he was echoing the prophet Isaiah and the imagery of turning swords into plowshares is unknown. But the comparison is quite clear.

The first five verses of Isaiah 2 give a picture of a time when peace would reign. Swords would be transformed into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks. Instead of instruments of war, the people would have instruments for peaceful agriculture. The Abbey of Galgano became a place dedicated to agriculture. As I noted previously, we still use agricultural techniques developed there.

The Abbey represents mankind. We desire peace. We proclaim that desire loudly and demonstrably. Yet the world around us is not peaceful. The raiders and bandits are lying in wait outside the abbey, hoping for a weakness they can exploit. But we have weaknesses within as well. The rest of Isaiah 2, plus Isaiah 3, illustrate these. Greed. Social injustice. Pride. Idolatry. Despite our deep wish for peace and justice, we’ll end up like the ruins of San Galgano if we don’t drive our swords into the stone. Or at least turn them into plowshares.

If you’re ever in the region of Siena, Italy, you can visit an actual sword in the stone (but you can’t try to pull it out, sorry).

The Abbey of San Galgano is tucked away in a river valley, situated between two Tuscan towns. Founded by Galgano Guidotti, it was built in the 13th century as a Cistercian monastery. I could try to explain the Cistercian religious order, but that would involve a semester class in the history of Catholic monasticism. To put it simply, the Cistercians were a group of monks and nuns that believed current monastic practices had gotten too liberal. They restored what they believed was the original intent of the Rule of Saint Benedict (a 500 year old book of monastic precepts).

The Cistercians followed the Rule of Saint Benedict literally, and sometimes in a strict austerity that went beyond the Rule. Their practices involved a simple life of work, love, prayer and self-denial. Manual labor was particularly important, especially working out in the fields. The Cistercians became incredibly good at hydraulic engineering (water flow, sewage, dams, and such). The systems they developed are still in use today. Whenever you turn on your water faucet, be sure to thank the Cistercians.

What does this have to do with a sword in the stone? There are two stories. The first is that Galgano was guided by an angel to a rugged hill. Once there, he had a vision of a temple on the hill. The angel urged Galgano to repent of his sins, but Galgano complained that it would be an impossible task as hard as driving a sword into a stony outcropping. To prove his point to the angel, he thrust his own sword at a large chunk of stone. The sword slid smoothly into the stone, where it still remains to this day (as the story goes). Galgano founded a church there and became one more person who learned the lesson that you shouldn’t argue with angels.

The second story? Next time. Next time.