Maybe it's her prominent place in the recent hit movie The Rookie. Maybe it's the sense, shared by many right now, that the Church is in dire straights.

Whatever the reason, St. Rita of Cascia is, suddenly, in.

And why not? Saint of the impossible and advocate of difficult cases. Wife and mother, widow and Augustinian nun. Reconciler and promoter of family harmony. Such are some of the TITLEs by which the Italian stigmatist is known and venerated by people throughout the world.

Last week the Register reported on the basilica dedicated to St. Rita in her homeland of Umbria, Italy. This week we visit a St. Rita site closer to home for most Register readers.

The white-stone face of the National Shrine of Saint Rita rises over the frenetic streets of Philadelphia. As soon as you walk off the curb through the tall, curved, wrought-iron gate—passing under a sign reading “Remain in Peace and Charity”—you're aware that you're not in the city any more. Spiritually speaking, anyway. The upper church, with its 80-foot high painted ceilings and towering pipe organ, all constructed in the style of 14th-century Renaissance architecture, transports you to a better place, a place of supernatural tranquility.

I learned during my visit that the edifice was constructed in 1915 and completely renovated in 1994. I could see that the latter project was carried out with great respect and reverence. As I walked along the side aisles, my eyes were attracted to beautiful paintings along the walls depicting scenes from the lives of St. Augustine, St. Rita and other Augustinians. At the front of the church, massive marble columns framing the main altar drew my glance toward a domed ceiling. Here St. Rita ascends to heavenly glory amid a throng of saints and cherubs. Turning down the opposite side aisle, I paused to reflect on scenes of St. Rita's life, detailed in stained-glass windows. From there I continued down an alcove in which her shrine altar is set. A first-class relic of the saint, preserved in a glorious reliquary, inspires many visitors to write out their petitions for St. Rita's intercession.

Opposite this exceptional altar is one in honor of Blessed Stephen Bellesini (1774-1840), an Augustinian and an advocate of education who was a dedicated pastor to the sick and poor. His statue depicts him kneeling, surrounded by children, while his first-class relic sits behind in an alcove magnificently augmented by a 15th-century image of Our Lady of Good Counsel.

Graced With a Thorn

Moving on to the lower shrine, newly renovated within the last two years, I discovered even more rich treasures to meditate on. The first thing to catch my eye was a bronze figure of Jesus in his Passion—standing, crowned with thorns and enduring tremendous agony. He holds his hand outward toward another figure, also cast in bronze far across the room. Who else? St. Rita, crowned with roses, kneels and reaches toward Jesus. She is holding a thorn in her hand.

Centered in the second room of the lower level, a depiction of St. Rita in ecstasy is heart-wrenching. As I gazed at the lines in her face, her eyes tightly shut, I could see St. Rita actively participating in a “stream of grace” that flows from her statue to Jesus' image. These awe-inspiring structures are the handiwork of a Philadelphia artist, Anthony Visco.

Here I stopped to reflect on the story of St. Rita and the thorn. Once, as she knelt in prayer, the nun's forehead was violently pierced by a single thorn—the exact same kind of thorn as the ones used to “crown” Jesus on his way to the Crucifixion. This injury brought Rita 15 years of physical pain (she bore it, unhealed, for the rest of her life). Worse still, it led to her being shunned by her religious community, whose members were nauseated by the odor that emanated from the wound.

Tradition has it that the sacred thorn from Jesus' crown, reverently preserved through the centuries, was given by Philip, King of France, son of the saintly King Louis, to the prior-general of the Augustinians, Clement of Osimo, in 1272.

A century later, this precious relic was placed in the Augustinian Church of Sant'Elpidio a Mare and was transferred to the Church of Saint Augustine in Fermo, Italy, where it is still preserved and venerated.

Reflective Reliquary

Moving on to the other parts of the lower shrine, I entered a circle-shaped room in which are housed a number of well-preserved artifacts from St. Rita's life. The Sisters of Cascia have recently donated a small pillow, dubbed the “Pillow of Tranquility,” taken from the glass sarcophagus in which St. Rita's incorrupt body rested from 1935 to 1947. I leaned over the glass case to see the gold-trimmed pillow, which once supported the saint's hands, to notice a large relic of the flesh of St. Rita, preserved in a vessel for continuous veneration. Among such precious relics, I couldn't help but feel a palpable sense of St. Rita's strong, intercessory presence.

The circular room, which is still unfinished, holds five niches that will soon exalt other Augustinians; additional plans call for a mosaic, spanning the entire room, that will depict all the major events of St. Rita's life.

During my visit, the best was saved for last. The crowning glory of this shrine is its eucharistic-adoration chapel, where anyone can adore the Most Blessed Sacrament, exposed from 8:45 a.m. to 9 p.m., at which time follows Benediction. The monstrance, posed on a marble altar, is surrounded by statues of Our Lady of Fatima, St. Joseph and a stunning, suspended cross. This sanctified space is about as far as you could get from the bustling city just outside the front doors of the shrine.

As you leave the National Shrine of St. Rita of Cascia, passing back through the iron gate, check and see if you don't have a powerful sense of the saint's message of harmony, peace and forgiveness written on your heart. I'll bet you won't be able to miss it.

Regina Marshall writes from

Hamden, Connecticut.