This is the Chiesa del Purgatorio, and if you look at the wooden portal, you can understand that this is not a subtle church. Look closely at the portal, and you will see that it has thirty-six panels, and every one of them features a skull. What’s interesting is that these aren’t identical. The skulls in the upper tier wear individual headdresses: mitres for bishops and crowns for rulers. But the skulls in the lower tier are bare and unadorned. These could be common citizens, stripped of all earthly distinction. Now here comes the darkly funny part. Their placement on the door was determined not by their virtue in life but by how much their families donated toward the church’s construction. The more you paid, the higher and more prominent your skull would be. So even in death, where the whole theological point of Purgatory is that all souls are equal before God, the wealthy literally bought themselves a better position. I wonder what the dead have to say about this hypocrisy! If you look above the door at the tympanum, you’ll see two full skeletons, one with a scythe and the other with an hourglass, guarding the entrance. These are death and time. They flank a central emblem — a skull amid flames cradling a writhing soul, evoking the fires of Purgatory. And beneath them, you can see a Latin inscription from the Book of Job. It says: “MISEREMINI MEI… SALTEM VOS AMICI MEI,” meaning “Have pity on me, at least you, my friends.” This church was built in the early eighteenth century, and the confraternity behind it had an evocative origin. They were a unique religious group known as the Confraternita delle Anime del Purgatorio, or the Confraternity of Shepherds. It was a brotherhood made up mainly of local shepherds and herdsmen, whose lives were closely connected to the rural landscape around Matera. At a time when shepherding was an important part of the local economy, these men came together not only for work and community but also for religious devotion. The confraternity was created to pray for and support the souls believed to be in Purgatory, meaning souls trapped in a limbo between heaven and hell. Members collected donations and organized masses dedicated to helping these souls reach heaven. One more thing about this spot. On the nights around the first and second of November, which are All Souls’ Day, Materan tradition held that a slow, silent, terrifying procession of the dead crossed through the Sassi. Ghosts holding lighted candles. The most common apparition was a monk dressed in white. On those nights, the entire city stayed indoors, locked and silent. Given that this is the church of Purgatory, I’d say the procession chose its route wisely. While the exteriors seem macabre, which was deliberate, the interiors of this church are vibrantly colourful. So, if the church is open, you can step in, as the entry here is free. Follow the directions on the map to reach our next stop.