Saint Bartolo Longo
From the Occult to Apostle of the Rosary: His Miraculous Conversion - Canonized Oct 19 2025

In the shadowed corners of 19th-century Italy, a man named Bartolo Longo walked a path so dark it seemed impossible to turn back—a path of occult rituals, despair, and even service as a satanic priest. Yet, in a twist of divine grace that reads like a script from the heavens, this same man would become one of the most fervent apostles of the Rosary, a beacon of hope for the downtrodden, and a blessed figure in the Catholic Church. His story isn’t just a footnote in history; it’s a thunderclap of redemption, a reminder that no soul is beyond the reach of God’s mercy.
Here at Journeys of Faith, we’re drawn to tales like Bartolo Longo’s—stories of transformation that echo the very heart of our mission to inspire and deepen devotion through the riches of Catholic tradition. Founded by Bob and Penny Lord, our ministry has spent over four decades guiding pilgrims to sacred sites and sharing the lives of saints through books, documentaries, and retreats. Bartolo’s journey from darkness to light is the kind of narrative we live to tell, one that invites us all to reflect on the power of faith to rebuild broken lives. Whether you’ve walked with us on pilgrimage or encountered our resources through EWTN or beyond, we invite you to step into this incredible story of conversion—a testament to the miraculous ways God works, even in the most unlikely of hearts.
Bartolo Longo’s life is a pilgrimage in itself, a grueling trek from the abyss of spiritual ruin to the heights of sanctity. It’s a story that challenges us to look at our own struggles, to see the possibility of renewal, and to cling to the intercession of Our Lady through the Rosary. So, come with us as we uncover the layers of this man’s journey—how a soul ensnared by evil found freedom, purpose, and a mission that would touch countless lives. Let’s walk this path together, with reverence and wonder, and see what lessons of faith and perseverance await.
Early Life in the Shadows of Brindisi
In the sun-drenched streets of Brindisi, Italy, young Bartolo Longo entered the world on February 10, 1841, born into a family of modest means but deep Catholic roots. Yet, even as a child, the whispers of darkness seemed to curl around him like the Adriatic mist. His early years were marked by a restless spirit, a hunger for something beyond the simple piety of his parents’ home. Brindisi, a port city steeped in history and faith, was a crossroads of cultures and ideas, and Bartolo, with his sharp mind and sensitive soul, absorbed it all—perhaps too much.
Orphaned at a tender age after losing both parents, Bartolo’s life took on the weight of solitude. He was sent to a boarding school run by the Piarist Fathers, where the seeds of faith were sown, but so too were the seeds of doubt. The 19th century was a turbulent time in Italy, with the winds of secularism and anti-clericalism blowing fiercely. As a young man, Bartolo found himself drawn into this storm. He enrolled at the University of Naples to study law, and there, amid the intellectual fervor of the era, he began to drift from the Church. The allure of esoteric philosophies and radical ideologies gripped him, pulling him into a shadowy underworld of spiritualism and, eventually, outright Satanism. It’s hard to imagine now, this boy from Brindisi—a place of ancient cathedrals and Marian devotion—offering himself as a priest to dark forces, but such was the depth of his fall.
Yet, even in these bleak years, there were glimmers of the divine at work. Friends and family, though heartbroken by his choices, never ceased praying for his soul. A professor, Vincenzo Pepe, became a quiet beacon, urging Bartolo to reconsider his path. These were the first cracks in the wall he’d built around his heart, though the journey back to light would be neither swift nor easy. In the shadows of Brindisi, Bartolo’s story was just beginning—a tale of descent, yes, but also the faint promise of redemption.
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Hey there, fellow seekers of the sacred! At Journeys of Faith, we’re not just about reading stories like Blessed Bartolo Longo’s incredible conversion from darkness to divine light—we’re about living them. We’ve been guiding souls on transformative pilgrimages since 1980, just as Bob and Penny Lord did when they founded this ministry with a passion for Catholic tradition. If Bartolo’s story of redemption through the Rosary stirs something in you, let’s take that inspiration further together.
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University Years and the Rise of Spiritual Restlessness
In the hallowed halls of the University of Naples, young Bartolo Longo found himself at a crossroads that would define the trajectory of his soul. It was the 1860s, a time of intellectual ferment in Italy, where the winds of secularism and anti-clerical sentiment blew fiercely through academic circles. Bartolo, a bright and inquisitive law student, was not immune to these currents. Raised in a devout Catholic family in Latiano, his early years had been steeped in the rhythms of prayer and the comforting embrace of the Church. Yet, as he immersed himself in the university's progressive ideals, a restlessness began to gnaw at him—a spiritual hunger that neither lectures nor debates could satisfy.
This wasn’t just a phase; it was a full-blown crisis of faith. Bartolo, like so many young men of his era, became enamored with the allure of rationalism and the emerging occult trends that promised hidden knowledge and power. He drifted from the sacraments, drawn instead to séances and the dark mystique of spiritualism. It’s chilling to think of him in those dimly lit rooms, surrounded by whispers of the unseen, seeking answers in places where only shadows dwell. Friends and mentors noticed the change—his once-bright spirit seemed clouded, his laughter replaced by a brooding intensity. Bartolo himself later confessed that this period felt like a descent, a deliberate turning away from the light of Christ toward a void that offered no peace.
But even in this darkness, the seeds of grace were quietly at work. The very restlessness that drove him to explore forbidden paths was, in a paradoxical way, a sign of his longing for something greater. He couldn’t shake the memory of his mother’s rosary, the simple prayers of his childhood, or the quiet strength of the faith he had once known. These echoes of his past became a silent counterpoint to the chaos of his university years, a reminder of a home he had left but could not fully abandon. Little did he know that this tension—between the allure of the world and the pull of the divine—would soon erupt into a dramatic turning point, one that would reshape his life and countless others in ways unimaginable.
Descent into Spiritism and the Occult
In the shadowed corridors of Bartolo Longo's early life, we find a young man adrift, grappling with the spiritual void of a post-Christian Europe. Born in 1841 in Latiano, Italy, Bartolo was raised in a devout Catholic family, but the winds of change blowing through the 19th century—rationalism, secularism, and the allure of the occult—swept him far from the faith of his childhood. As a law student at the University of Naples, he found himself drawn into the murky underbelly of spiritism, a movement that promised answers through séances and communion with the dead. It was a seductive escape, a way to wrestle with the existential questions that gnawed at his soul.
But spiritism was only the beginning of Bartolo’s descent. The deeper he ventured, the darker the path became. He became entangled with a satanic sect, a group that reveled in the inversion of all that was holy. In a chilling turn, Bartolo was ordained as a “satanic priest,” presiding over blasphemous rituals that mocked the very sacraments he had once received as a child. It’s hard to fathom the weight of such a choice—the deliberate rejection of light for shadow, the embrace of desecration over devotion. Yet, in his own writings, Bartolo later confessed the profound emptiness of those years, a hollowness that no amount of forbidden knowledge could fill. He was a man possessed, not by demons in the literal sense, but by the despair of a life unmoored from truth.
This wasn’t just a personal failing; it was a reflection of an era. The 19th century was a battleground for the soul of Europe, with the Church under siege from every angle—political upheaval, intellectual skepticism, and the rise of esoteric movements that preyed on the spiritually hungry. Bartolo’s story, in this sense, is a microcosm of a broader struggle. He wasn’t merely a rebel without a cause; he was a seeker who had stumbled into a spiritual dead end, mistaking darkness for enlightenment. And yet, even in this abyss, the seeds of redemption were quietly being sown, though he could not yet see the hand of grace reaching out to pull him back.
The Intercessory Power of a Mother’s Prayers
In the shadowed chapters of Bartolo Longo’s life, when the weight of his satanic priesthood bore down like a suffocating fog, there was a quiet, persistent force that refused to let him go entirely to the darkness. It was the power of a mother’s prayers—his own mother’s unyielding intercession, a beacon of hope flickering even in the abyss of his despair. A mother’s love, as we know from the heart of our faith, mirrors the boundless compassion of Our Lady, and it was through this maternal persistence that the first cracks of light began to pierce Bartolo’s hardened soul.
His mother, a devout Catholic, never ceased to pray the Rosary for her wayward son. Day after day, bead after bead, she entrusted him to the Blessed Virgin Mary, believing with a fierce, quiet certainty that no soul was beyond redemption. This wasn’t mere sentimentality—it was a spiritual warfare waged on her knees. She understood, as we are called to understand, that the Rosary is not just a string of prayers but a lifeline, a direct plea to the Mother of God who stands ever-ready to intercede for her children. Bartolo, lost in the occult and tormented by the emptiness of his choices, could not escape the invisible shield of grace woven by those maternal petitions.
Scripture reminds us of the power of persistent prayer, as in the parable of the widow who wore down the unjust judge with her ceaseless pleas (Luke 18:1-8). How much more, then, does the heart of Our Lady respond to a mother’s cry for her child? Bartolo’s story is a testament to this truth. Though he had turned his back on the faith of his upbringing, the prayers of his mother planted seeds that would eventually sprout, even if she could not yet see the harvest. Her faithfulness echoes the sorrowful yet hopeful heart of Mary at the foot of the Cross, trusting in God’s plan even amidst piercing grief.
For us, this is a profound lesson in the hidden might of intercessory prayer. How often do we doubt the impact of our whispered Rosaries, our quiet intentions for those we love who seem so far from God? Bartolo’s life urges us to persevere. A mother’s prayers, united with the Immaculate Heart of Mary, became the first step in a miraculous conversion that would not only redeem a lost soul but elevate him to become an apostle of the very devotion that saved him. Let us take heart, then, and never underestimate the power of a single Hail Mary offered with love.
Encounter with a Saintly Dominican and the Breaking of Chains
In the shadowed depths of Bartolo Longo’s life, where the chains of despair and darkness bound him tight, a flicker of divine light emerged through an unlikely encounter. Picture this: Naples in the 1870s, a city buzzing with life yet steeped in spiritual struggle for a man like Bartolo, who had wandered so far from grace. Once a satanic priest, entangled in occult practices and haunted by the weight of his choices, he was a soul teetering on the edge of eternal loss. But God, in His infinite mercy, had other plans.
Enter Father Alberto Radente, a Dominican priest whose very presence seemed to radiate the peace of Christ. This wasn’t just a chance meeting; it was a divine appointment. Father Radente, with his gentle yet piercing insight, saw through the torment in Bartolo’s eyes. He didn’t recoil from the man’s past—didn’t flinch at the whispers of satanic rites or the scars of a life misspent. Instead, he extended a hand, offering not judgment but hope. He spoke of the Blessed Virgin Mary, of her maternal love, of the power of the Rosary—a simple string of beads that could become a lifeline to salvation.
Bartolo, hardened by years of spiritual rebellion, felt something crack within him. It wasn’t an instantaneous transformation—real change rarely is. But Father Radente’s words planted a seed. He urged Bartolo to turn to Mary, to pray the Rosary, to let her intercession untangle the knots of his soul. “If you seek salvation, propagate the Rosary,” the priest told him, echoing a promise that felt both impossible and irresistible. This was the first tug on the chains that bound Bartolo, the first sign that freedom might be within reach.
Through Father Radente’s guidance, Bartolo began to confront the darkness he had embraced. The Dominican’s unwavering faith and personal warmth became a mirror, reflecting what Bartolo could become if he surrendered to grace. It was a slow, often painful unraveling—each Hail Mary a step away from his past, each mystery of the Rosary a brick in the foundation of a new life. The chains didn’t break all at once, but they began to loosen, link by link, as Bartolo entrusted himself to the Mother of God. This encounter wasn’t just a meeting of two men; it was the beginning of a miracle, a testament to how God uses the faithful to call the lost back home.
Confession, Deliverance, and Return to the Church
In the shadowed depths of Bartolo Longo’s life, where despair and darkness once held court, a flicker of divine light began to pierce through. It was no grand epiphany at first, no cinematic moment of angelic choirs—but rather a quiet, grinding struggle, the kind of soul-wrenching battle that only those who’ve stared into the abyss can truly grasp. Longo, once a satanic priest entangled in the occult’s seductive grip, found himself haunted not just by his past sins, but by a growing, unshakable sense of emptiness. The rituals, the promises of power—they had all crumbled into ash, leaving him hollow.
It was in this brokenness that the Blessed Virgin Mary, the gentle Mother of Sorrows, seemed to call to him. Through the persistent prayers of friends and the quiet witness of a Dominican friar, Longo was drawn to confession—a sacrament he had long abandoned. Picture it: a man who once spat venom against the Church, now trembling as he knelt in the confessional, pouring out years of rebellion and pain. The weight of his sins, the chains of his past, began to loosen as the words of absolution washed over him. This wasn’t just a ritual; it was a deliverance, a reclaiming of a soul marked for God.
Returning to the Church wasn’t a tidy, one-and-done moment for Longo. It was messy, raw, and real—a slow pilgrimage of the heart. He wrestled with doubts, with the echoes of his old life whispering temptations. Yet, in the Eucharist and the Rosary, he found anchors. The Rosary, especially, became his lifeline, each bead a step back to Mary, who he would later call his “only hope.” This was no mere devotion; it was a desperate clinging to grace, a recognition that only through her intercession could he rebuild what he had torn down. And rebuild he did, brick by spiritual brick, allowing God’s mercy to transform his shame into a mission.
Consecration to Our Lady and the Rosary Promise

In the heart of Bartolo Longo’s transformation lies a moment of raw, almost desperate surrender—a turning point that feels like something out of a gritty, redemptive novel. After years of entanglement in the dark webs of occultism and satanic rites, Bartolo found himself at the edge of despair, haunted by the emptiness of a life unmoored from truth. It was here, in the quiet of his brokenness, that he heard the whisper of grace through a friend’s counsel: consecrate yourself to Our Lady. Give yourself to the Blessed Virgin Mary through the Rosary.
This wasn’t just a casual suggestion; it was a lifeline. Bartolo, a man who had once mocked the very faith he now clung to, took up the beads with trembling hands. He didn’t just pray the Rosary—he wrestled with it, poured his shame and longing into each Hail Mary, as if each bead could stitch together the fragments of his soul. In 1871, he made a formal consecration to Our Lady, binding himself to her maternal care, and in that act, he discovered a promise: the Rosary would be his shield, his guide, his path to redemption.
This promise wasn’t mere sentiment. Bartolo came to understand, through the steady rhythm of those prayers, that Mary was interceding for him, drawing him closer to her Son. He later wrote of the Rosary as a “chain of love,” a tether that pulled him from the abyss. And in this newfound devotion, he didn’t just find personal peace—he found a mission. He began to spread the devotion with a fervor that bordered on obsession, determined to share the healing he’d received. He built a shrine to Our Lady of the Rosary in Pompeii, a physical testament to the power of those beads, and dedicated his life to teaching others to pray as he had—fiercely, faithfully, with everything they had.
For those of us who’ve ever felt lost, Bartolo’s story hits hard. It’s not just about a man saying prayers; it’s about a complete rewiring of the heart through Mary’s intercession. The Rosary, for him, became a weapon against despair, a daily reminder of the promise that no soul is too far gone for God’s mercy. It’s a lesson in trust, in handing over the mess of our lives to a Mother who never turns away.
Founding the Rosary Brotherhood in Pompei
In the shadow of Vesuvius, amid the ash and ruin of a town still haunted by its ancient destruction, Bartolo Longo found himself at a crossroads of faith and despair. Pompei, in the late 19th century, was a place of spiritual desolation as much as physical decay—a forgotten corner of Italy where superstition and poverty reigned. But it was here, in 1872, that Bartolo, once a priest of Satan now touched by divine grace, began to sow the seeds of a miraculous renewal. Driven by a burning devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary, he resolved to bring the power of the Rosary to a people starved for hope.
Bartolo didn’t just preach; he organized. With the fervor of a man who had seen the abyss and turned back, he founded the Confraternity of the Holy Rosary, a brotherhood dedicated to spreading devotion through communal prayer. He understood that faith isn’t a solitary act—it thrives in community, in the shared rhythm of beads slipping through fingers, in the whispered Ave Marias echoing through a crumbling church. He started small, gathering a handful of locals, teaching them the mysteries of the Rosary, and encouraging them to pray together for their broken town. Word spread like wildfire through the dusty streets. Families joined. Skeptics softened. Soon, the brotherhood was a movement, a lifeline for a community desperate for something to believe in.
But Bartolo’s vision wasn’t just about prayer—it was about action. He knew the Rosary could be a catalyst for transformation, not just of souls but of society. He rallied the faithful to restore a dilapidated parish church, turning it into a sanctuary for the image of Our Lady of the Rosary, a painting he had acquired with humble means but profound faith. This image became the heart of Pompei’s revival, a focal point for pilgrims who began to trickle in, drawn by stories of miracles and answered prayers. Bartolo’s brotherhood wasn’t just a prayer group; it was the foundation of a spiritual and cultural rebirth, a testament to the power of Mary’s intercession.
Every bead counted. Every prayer was a brick in the foundation of what would become the Basilica of Our Lady of the Rosary, a monument to Bartolo’s unyielding belief that even the darkest past could be redeemed through devotion. In Pompei, where history whispered of destruction, Bartolo Longo crafted a new story—one of healing, unity, and the quiet, persistent strength of the Rosary.
Restoring a Ruined Chapel into a Marian Shrine
In the shadow of Mount Vesuvius, amid the desolation of Pompeii’s ancient ruins, Bartolo Longo found himself standing before a crumbling chapel in the Valley of Pompeii. It was 1872, and this once-holy place was little more than a husk—its walls cracked, its altar desecrated, a forgotten relic in a land scarred by both volcanic fury and spiritual neglect. Bartolo, still wrestling with the echoes of his dark past as a satanic priest, felt an unshakable call in his heart. This broken chapel, he believed, was not just a pile of stones but a battlefield for souls—a place where the Blessed Virgin Mary could reclaim what sin had shattered.
With little more than fervent prayer and raw determination, Bartolo set to work. He wasn’t a man of means; his resources were scant, his hands unaccustomed to labor. Yet, he poured himself into the restoration, driven by a vision of transforming this ruin into a beacon of Marian devotion. He rallied the local peasants, whose lives were as battered as the land they tilled, and together they scrubbed away decades of grime, patched the walls, and breathed life back into the sacred space. It was grueling, unglamorous work—more sweat than sanctity—but Bartolo saw every brick laid as an act of reparation, a plea for mercy, a step closer to the Mother of God.
Central to this rebirth was an image of Our Lady of the Rosary, a painting Bartolo acquired with the help of a Dominican priest. When it arrived in Pompeii on a humble cart, carried through the dusty streets, the villagers gathered, their weary faces alight with something like hope. This image, though not a masterpiece by worldly standards, became the heart of the chapel. Bartolo enshrined it above the altar, and almost overnight, whispers of miracles began to spread—healings, answered prayers, hearts turned back to God. The chapel, now the Sanctuary of the Blessed Virgin of the Rosary, grew into a pilgrimage site, a testament to the power of conversion and the intercession of Mary.
Bartolo’s efforts didn’t stop at stone and mortar. He knew that true restoration meant rebuilding souls. He founded schools for the poor, orphanages for the abandoned, and a confraternity dedicated to the Rosary, weaving a community of faith around the shrine. Each bead prayed, each child taught, was a brick in a spiritual edifice far greater than any physical church. Through this work, Bartolo was not just salvaging a chapel; he was becoming an apostle of the Rosary, a living witness to the transformative grace of God through Mary’s hands.
Miraculous Healings and the Spread of Devotion
In the wake of Bartolo Longo’s profound conversion, the once wayward soul became a conduit for miracles that would ripple through the hearts of the faithful. The Rosary, that humble string of beads and prayers, turned into a lifeline for the people of Pompeii, where Bartolo had settled to rebuild his life. He didn’t just preach devotion to Our Lady; he lived it, breathed it, and watched as the impossible unfolded before his eyes. Stories began to emerge—whispers at first, then bold testimonies—of healings that defied explanation. A child, bedridden with a fever no doctor could break, rose after a novena to the Virgin of the Rosary. A mother, barren for years, cradled a newborn after entrusting her sorrow to Mary through Bartolo’s guidance. These weren’t just anecdotes; they were sparks that ignited a wildfire of faith.
Bartolo, ever the meticulous man shaped by his legal training, didn’t let these accounts drift into mere folklore. He documented them, ensuring the authenticity of each miracle, knowing that skepticism would follow. But the evidence was undeniable, and the people of Pompeii, once mired in despair and superstition, began to turn their faces toward the light of Marian devotion. The shrine he founded, the Sanctuary of Our Lady of the Rosary, became a beacon—not just a building, but a living testament to the power of prayer. Pilgrims trickled in, then poured in, drawn by the stories of grace that seemed to seep from the very stones of the place.
This wasn’t a passive movement. Bartolo rolled up his sleeves, organizing Rosary confraternities, teaching the poor to pray, and even establishing schools and orphanages under Mary’s patronage. He understood that devotion wasn’t just about personal salvation; it was about lifting up a broken community. The Rosary became more than a prayer—it became a revolution of the heart, spreading far beyond the shadow of Vesuvius. Letters arrived from distant villages, then from across Italy, begging for images of Our Lady of Pompeii, for prayers, for a piece of the hope Bartolo had unearthed. And with each story of healing, each life transformed, the devotion grew, binding the faithful in a chain of grace that stretched across oceans and generations.
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A Legacy of Transformation: Bartolo Longo’s Call to Us All
As we reflect on the extraordinary journey of Blessed Bartolo Longo—from the darkness of a satanic priesthood to the radiant light of an apostle of the Rosary—we’re reminded that no soul is beyond redemption. His story, steeped in divine mercy, isn’t just a historical footnote; it’s a living testament to the transformative power of faith. At Journeys of Faith, we’re inspired by such miracles of the heart, and we invite you to walk this path of discovery with us.
Bartolo’s conversion teaches us that even in our deepest struggles, the Blessed Mother’s intercession and the grace of God can lead us home. His devotion to the Rosary became a lifeline, a beacon for countless others to follow. We encourage you to explore these sacred mysteries, perhaps by joining us on a pilgrimage to Marian shrines or diving into our resources on the lives of saints like Bartolo Longo. Through retreats, books, and digital content, Journeys of Faith is here to guide your spiritual growth, grounded in the rich tapestry of Catholic tradition. Let Bartolo’s life inspire you—step into your own journey of faith today.
FAQs About Blessed Bartolo Longo
Who was Bartolo Longo?
Bartolo Longo was a 19th-century Italian lawyer who underwent a profound transformation from a life steeped in darkness to becoming a fervent Catholic and an apostle of the Rosary. Born in 1841 in Latiano, Italy, he is best known for his tireless devotion to the Virgin Mary and for founding the Shrine of Our Lady of the Rosary in Pompeii. Beatified by Pope John Paul II in 1980, Bartolo’s life stands as a testament to the power of redemption and faith, a story that resonates deeply with those of us at Journeys of Faith who seek to share the transformative journeys of the saints.
What was Bartolo Longo’s life like before his conversion?
Before his conversion, Bartolo Longo lived a life far removed from the light of faith. Raised in a devout Catholic family, he drifted during his university years in Naples, immersing himself in the secular, anti-clerical culture of the time. His search for meaning led him down a troubling path, marked by disillusionment and a rejection of the Church. It’s a reminder of how even the most lost among us can be called back, a theme we explore often in our pilgrimages and media at Journeys of Faith.
How did Bartolo Longo become involved with Satanism?
During his time at university, Bartolo became entangled in the occult, a dark undercurrent of the spiritualist movements popular in 19th-century Europe. Seeking answers beyond the Church, he was drawn into Satanic practices and even became a “priest” in a Satanic cult. This wasn’t just a casual dalliance; it was a deep dive into a world that promised power but delivered only despair. His story is a stark warning, one that we at Journeys of Faith feel compelled to share as a caution against straying from the truth of Catholic teaching.
What led Bartolo Longo to leave Satanism?
Bartolo’s exit from Satanism wasn’t instantaneous—it was a slow unraveling of the lies he’d embraced. The turning point came through a gnawing sense of emptiness and the torment of his conscience. He began to see the destructive nature of his choices, haunted by the darkness he’d invited into his life. This crisis of soul, as we often discuss in our retreats at Journeys of Faith, is where God often meets us, ready to guide us home through His infinite mercy.
Who influenced Bartolo Longo’s conversion to Catholicism?
Key figures played a pivotal role in Bartolo’s return to the Catholic faith. A friend, Professor Vincenzo Pepe, urged him to reconsider his path, while a Dominican priest, Father Alberto Radente, provided spiritual guidance, introducing him to the healing power of the Rosary. Their influence, combined with Bartolo’s own longing for peace, mirrors the communal support we foster at Journeys of Faith through our events and pilgrimage experiences.
How did Bartolo Longo discover the power of the Rosary?
Bartolo’s discovery of the Rosary came as a lifeline during his darkest hour. Under Father Radente’s guidance, he began praying it and found in its rhythm a profound connection to the Virgin Mary. He later recounted a moment of divine inspiration when Mary herself spoke to him, saying, “If you seek salvation, promulgate the Rosary.” This moment reshaped his life, a personal encounter with the divine that we at Journeys of Faith cherish in the stories of the saints we share.
What role did the Virgin Mary play in Bartolo’s life?
The Virgin Mary became the cornerstone of Bartolo’s renewed faith. After his conversion, he dedicated himself to her, seeing her as his spiritual mother and guide. Her intercession, he believed, saved him from the abyss, and he spent the rest of his life spreading devotion to her through the Rosary. This deep Marian devotion is at the heart of many of our pilgrimages at Journeys of Faith, as we lead the faithful to shrines where Mary’s presence is felt so strongly.
What miracles are associated with Bartolo Longo?
Bartolo’s life and legacy are intertwined with miracles, particularly those attributed to the intercession of Our Lady of the Rosary in Pompeii. Countless healings and conversions have been reported by pilgrims visiting the shrine he founded. While Bartolo himself is not credited with performing miracles, his work created a sacred space where the miraculous became commonplace, a phenomenon we’ve witnessed on our own Journeys of Faith tours to Marian sites.
How did Bartolo Longo promote the Rosary?
Bartolo became a relentless advocate for the Rosary, believing it to be a powerful weapon against evil and a path to salvation. He wrote numerous books and pamphlets on its importance, organized public devotions, and established the Confraternity of the Holy Rosary. His most enduring contribution was the construction of the Shrine of Our Lady of the Rosary in Pompeii, a beacon of hope and prayer. At Journeys of Faith, we echo his mission by encouraging personal devotion through our resources and retreats.
What is Bartolo Longo’s connection to the city of Pompeii?
Bartolo’s connection to Pompeii is both physical and spiritual. After his conversion, he moved to the Valley of Pompeii to manage property for a noblewoman. There, amidst poverty and spiritual neglect, he felt called to rebuild not just the land but the faith of its people. He founded the Shrine of Our Lady of the Rosary, turning a forgotten corner of Italy into a global pilgrimage destination. His work in Pompeii is a powerful example of renewal, a theme we celebrate at Journeys of Faith as we guide pilgrims to sacred places of transformation.