Today on Monday Mysteries we try to unlock the secrets behind a little golden lamb  in the Marktplatz.

Lamb sign on the Lamm building, Marktplatz, Tübingen

At first glance, the meaning of that sign with a golden lamb hanging on a building in the Marktplatz seems straightforward enough. The sign is in the style of the old Gasthäuser (Inns) signs (like the peacock one I talked about a while back), so my first thought was that it was an old sign for something like the Gasthäus Lamm (“Lamb Inn”), which would have opened in 1828 and been run by a guy named Heckmann (or so I thought):

Lamb sign on the Lamm building, Marktplatz, Tübingen

But then I noticed that the building currently houses an Evangelical-Lutheran center. Jesus is, after all, often referred to as the “lamb of god”, and so then I figured the sign had been put up by that center. Note that white shield with the red cross on that sign above the lamb is the shield of St. George, which appears on many church-affiliated buildings here in Tübingen. While people tend to refer to the big cathedral-like Evangelical-Lutheran Church in town as the Stiftskirche, its proper name is Die Stiftskirche zu St. Georg (“St. George’s Collegiate Church, Tübingen”). So, a golden lamb sign above an Evangelical-Lutheran church meeting hall didn’t seem that unusual.

But then, one day I noticed that there was a plaque on the side of that building that said something about the Steeb family, and a guy named Carlo Steeb who was from Verona that ran the Lamm Inn back in the 1700s. Or at least it said something like;  the sign was only in German, and it was one of those times when there were just enough unfamiliar words that I couldn’t follow exactly what was going on. I mean, all I got was that the Steeb family who ran the Lamm Inn had a son named Carlo who for some reason was famous in Verona.

Curious, to say the least.

Luckily, the story is recounted in a way that I was able to follow more easily in that book I bought about secrets of Tübingen. It seems that indeed a family named Steeb owned and operated the Lamm Inn on the Marktplatz.

In 1773 they had a son named Karl. Karl’s father wanted him to study business things, and for this purpose sent him off traveling in Europe. Karl eventually made his way on business to Verona, Italy. Now, the story in the book is a bit skimpy on the details of exactly how this next part came about, but by 1792 Karl had converted to Catholicism. Not only converted, mind you  — he’d become a Roman Catholic priest.

As I explained above, the sign of the lamb that hung over the inn in Tübingen clearly indicates that the family were fervent supporters of the Evangelical-Lutheran Church. So, when the family heard that Karl had converted to Catholicism, they immediately disowned him. Since Karl was the only son, the Inn eventually was taken over by the Heckmann family in 1828.

However, back in the 17900, Karl stayed in Verona and changed his name to Carlo. He worked at a Catholic seminary and in places around town among the poor,  eventually co-founding a Catholic charitable organization in Verona called the  “Sisters of Mercy” (“Istituto Sorelle della Misericordia di Verona”). In fact, Carlo became famous as the “Samaritan of Verona” for his good works among the sick and the poor.  He died in the 1850s and was beatified in 1975 by Pope Paul VI. Here’s a link to a website with information about him in English; alternatively, here’s the Wikipedia entry in German.

So, as confusing as it seemed at first, my impression of the information on that plaque in the Marktplatz actually wasn’t that far off. It turns out that it is indeed the case that a German boy named Karl, who was born to the Steeb family who ran the Gasthaus Lamm in Tübingen, and who was raised in the Evangelical-Lutheran Church, went on to become a revered Catholic priest in Verona named Carlo.

*****

P.S. Chris just looked up the “Sisters of Mercy” to see where they are located in Verona, and we now realized that we have actually walked by that church once or twice in the past, as it’s not all that far from where we typically stay in Verona (although it’s a little bit outside the Old City walls). There’s even a “Via Don Carlo Steeb” street in that neighborhood, too.   We always take a cab from the La Arena amphitheater back to the train station, and the route the cab takes usually zooms down the street that would go right by that church, too. We’ll have to scope it out a little more the next time we go to Verona.