Chiesa dell’Annunziata

“A revolving door for destiny,” the old woman muttered, gesturing towards the Chiesa dell’Annunziata. “Or at least, that’s what they called it.” This wasn’t just any church. The Chiesa dell’Annunziata, with its grand facade, held within its walls centuries of Neapolitan stories, particularly those of its most vulnerable citizens: abandoned children. Established in the 14th century by the will of Queen Sancia of Majorca, this complex was more than just a place of worship. It was a sanctuary, a hospital, and most notably, home to the “Rota dei Gittatelli” – the wheel of abandoned infants. Imagine, if you will, desperate mothers, cloaked in the anonymity of the night, approaching the church. They would lay their babies in the ruota, a basket built into the wall, turning the wheel so their precious bundles were received inside, unseen. Here, within the Chiesa dell’Annunziata, the infants, often left with only a meager token – a saint’s image, a piece of a rosary, or perhaps a note revealing their true identities – were baptized and became “esposti,” children of the Madonna. Records of these children, with their arrival times, descriptions, and any accompanying items, were meticulously kept, allowing us a glimpse into the lives of thousands of Naples’ children. The practice, though abolished in 1875, still echoes through the surname “Esposito,” testament to the Chiesa dell’Annunziata’s legacy of compassion and its enduring connection to the city’s foundlings. And as you stand before its hallowed halls, remember, you stand on the grounds where hope triumphed over despair, and where a church became a beacon for those who had nowhere else to turn.