Limping along in the rain

Wednesday,
Starting to get mobile again, but not able to do the Station Church this morning, which was a 55 min walk, one way.  Nevertheless, I went out this morning after Mass at the College in order to stretch my leg.  It was raining and as I was on my way out of the compound one of my priest-colleagues and I crossed paths... he cautioned me, not about the slippery pavers/cobble stones, but that there were police everywhere with whole sections of Rome near the Vatican roped off.   Oh?  Obama is in Rome.  Oh.  Not only that, but since I decided to take a short cut through the Vatican Square-that-is-round, it got worse: Doh! It's Wednesday and the Papal audience is in progress.  If it were all about me, which it isn't, I might wonder at the inconvenience: Just as I am trying to get to a particular street vendor on the other side of the Vatican, the Pope holds his weekly audience.  Not just any weekly audience.  An audience swollen by the fact that Popes John XXIII and Pope John Paul II are going to be declared Saints soon (so half of Poland is already here), oh, and Obama is here.  The umbrellas can't hide the fact that there are 50,000 - 60,000+ people underneath them holding them up.  A sea of colour in St. Peter's Square-that-is-not.  It's impossible to go through, so I have to go around.

It was just a few weeks ago I was standing at the back of the crowd taking pictures of the Pope as he drove through the crowd close by where I was standing.  Now there wasn't a square inch inside the Square-that-is-key-hole-shaped.  Who knows how to count that many people?  They overflowed outside St. Peter's Square-that-(never mind).  So I did the long loop around and didn't stand in the rain cheering on the papal address in Italian.  How could I?  I don't speak Italian.  Besides, there was a street vendor with a black felt hat with my name on it somewhere on the other side of St Peter's on the way to the Castel Sant'Angelo fortress/museum:

Bernini sculptures on bridge leading to Castel Sant'Angelo

By the way, those are all sculptures you see along the sides of the bridge leading to Castel Sant'Angelo are done by Bernini (which means they are magnificent) and they are of Angels holding all of the items related to the crucifixion of Christ: the spear that pierced his side, the three nails, the crown of thorns, the reed with a sponge full of vinegar, etc.

Three Nails

Sponge: 'I Thirst'

I get to walk by this incredible artistry almost every day... if I can walk.  I don't see how one can just walk passed them, although most do.  Anyway, I was actually out to exercise my gimpy leg with a specific mission of getting myself one of those felt wedge shaped hats.  I had priced one last Saturday on the way home from Lanciano, but I am only now getting out and about.  So, I found my street vendor, among the hundreds (really) and asked the price on a rainy day.  The rainy day price for a hat when there are 70K people around: 20 euros.  Price last Saturday: 12 euros.  Ha! I got it for 12 today anyway - my only attempt at haggling today.  You can laugh... just not when I wear it.

First 'selfie' ever: The black hat

Sporting my new black hat and a collapsible umbrella from the common collection provided at the door of the College, I made my way toward De Riti's thinking I would get a couple of cinctures (rope-belts), but I never made it.  I was venturing along Via Coronari and came across this Church, which I had never been in:

You have to take advantage of the opportunity to go into these churches while the door is open, because as often as not, the church is closed as you walk by.  They open during certain hours, but it is rarely as you just happen to be walking by.  Just inside the door, to the right, is this carving in wood of Padre Pio assisting Christ with his Cross.  

Padre Pio died in 1968 and is a saint for our days.  I recently re-read his biography before coming to Italy and I was so moved by his life, his holiness, his stigmata, his spiritual gift of discernment in the confessional, and yes, his ability to be present to people hundreds of miles away without leaving his monastery.  An inspiring saint who was still living when I was 10 years old! Wow...

Having lost myself in contemplation in that church, I never made it to De Riti's, but that can happen another day when Obama is not in town and the Pope is not giving his general audience... and it is not raining.

After pranzo, lunch, I dragged two of my priest friends to an instructional session on the Traditional Latin Mass at the Seminary.  It doesn't take long for birds of a feather to flock together... we tend to find each other as the sabbatical progresses.  I have also been taking some instruction from Fr Wm Barker, FSSP at S.Trinita dei Pelligrini, as well as attending Mass there.  This week the Pope's vicar of Rome is going to celebrate a Pontifical High Mass in the Extraordinary Form (TLM), so that should be wonderful.  They actually let me sit in 'choir' now, but I don't even know when to doff my birretta, sit, stand, bow, kneel... so you can appreciate their patience and dedication to helping simple priests like me learn the old mass.

I have taken a few pics, but not many, in the week that I have been indisposed.  I will try to post some of them later.

Spiritual Retreat week

Please note that there will be no posts while I am on spiritual retreat this week.

Saturday's trip to Lanciano

Perhaps you thought I stayed on the far side of Italy, content to remain on the Adriatic Sea rather than to return to Rome and post another blog entry?

No, but the trip was great... and I will share some pictures with you so you can get a sense of what it is like to cross Italy from West to East.  You remember from geography class, like I do, the lesson about Italy being shaped like a boot?  So, crossing from one side of Italy on the Atlantic, to the other side of Italy on the Adriatic, is only as wide as your mid-calf ... so to speak.  It takes three hours.  I can't even get to Windsor from Barrie in three hours.  But I can tell you that the geography of those three hours sure beats the trip from my house to my Mom's!

Departing from Rome by bus

After Mass at St Peter's, which was quite memorable in itself, three of us walked to the Subway and by interpreting the Italian subway system maps (don't ask) we managed to get to the bus station.  Trying to communicate to the lady at the bus ticket window about where I wanted to go, and when, was nothing short of painful... then after watching me suffer, she attempted some broken English and I ended up buying two tickets instead of one return ticket... sigh.

Although there are multiple pics I could post of the mountainous region in the middle of Italy, I will just post these two:

I loved the way they perch these little villages and towns on the top of the high hills, and, if you look closely at the first pic you will see another little village dangling precariously on the side of the mountain.  They all have a church often with a spire / steeple as the highest point in the town.  Dozens of these little towns and villages dot the tops of the landscape all the way from Rome to Lanciano, where we were headed.

There are actually snow capped mountains resembling the Rockies as well.  Best pic possible from a bus window...

Once in Lanciano we found our way to the Sanctuary of the Eucharistic miracle, but it was not open until 1500 (3 pm).  So, we looked into two other churches that were within steps, yes a few steps of the first one.  The first one was St. Lucy's or Santa Lucia.

Looking to get into the church of Santa Lucia

Outside the door to Santa Lucia

The sun was streaming in from one of the upper windows right into the 'choir', (you recall that the choir stalls were monastic and were set across from each other so that the monks could sing stanzas of the Psalms back and forth to each other as they chanted their daily prayers)  So I went as sat there, just to soak it in and to be quiet... and pray of course.  I didn't chant... though I was tempted to try.
My friend happened to take my picture at the time and sent it to me:

Sunshine in the Choir stall

The other was the Basilica in Lanciano (below) which was really quite beautiful for a town of about 35,000.  We don't have anything like it, and what we do have by way of Cathedral churches serves a city of millions and a whole diocese. The marble work was what caught my attention, and although I don't have a picture of it, it was something I hadn't seen before.  The intricate patterns in the marble altar rail, for example was all inlaid... in the same way the you have sometimes seen wood perfectly shaped into a pattern that fits together and then set into a larger piece of wood... only here it was with marble.  It was amazing craftsmanship.  This is the long view of the Basilica from the back:

Basilica in Lanciano

To be honest, I don't know how to write about our visit to the third church, which was the main reason for our trip.  Catholics have this willingness to believe in miracles and live close to the supernatural order of things... and do so un-apologetically, though often ridiculed.

In any case, here is a YouTube link explaining the miracle which happened about 1,300 years ago in this town, in the original church which still exists below the one built on top.  The fact that the miracle continues to this day... well, is a miracle in itself.  The Eucharistic Miracle of Lanciano.

A combined picture of the 3 pictures we took of the Eucharistic Miracle of Lanciano

Remnants of a ancient wall fresco in the original church below

You won't hear from me today after this short post.  I am off to celebrate Mass at the Station Church of St. Peter's Basilica, like I did last Sunday.  Immediately after that, I and two other priests are getting on a bus and traveling across Italy (west to east) to the Adriatic Sea and a little town called Lanciano.  It was there in 700 AD the first Eucharistic miracle took place, and is still present today.  I won't be back until late.  God bless you all.

With the Apostles; Phillip and James (the Less)

Whenever I visit my cousin in Sarnia I try to make a point of stopping in the Watford cemetery to pay my respects to my father.  If we are cruising by on our motorcycles he very graciously allows me that 10 or 15 minutes to sit quietly on the bench we put by my father's grave and offer a few prayers for the repose of his soul.  It is time well spent, even if it takes a little while longer to get to wherever we happen to be going.  He understands my need to do this and waits patiently and respectfully until I am finished.

It is something like that here.  Everywhere I go there are places where my spiritual ancestors are buried, where their remains are kept sacred and where I am allowed a few moments to pay my respects.  In this case, this morning, I sat in silence and prayer before the tombs of St. Phillip and St. James (the Less), Apostles and Martyrs.  They rest in the Church of the Apostles, Rome.  

There are statues of the 12 Apostles standing watch on the top of the porch leading to this Basilica. Rome as grown up around it so that you can hardly tell from the outside that it is a church anymore.  A sidewalk café with umbrella tables on the right and condominiums on the left.  It is fully integrated into the very fabric of the city.  Very little on the exterior will draw your attention.  But, like every Basilica, Church, and Chapel I've seen in Rome, the interior is a feast for the eyes and for the soul.

The Franciscan cross of San Damiano greets you as you enter and tells you that this Church is served by the spiritual descendants of St Francis of Assisi.  The ceiling will tell you that too and I have included a picture of it later in the blog post.  It is a fresco called, 'The Triumph of the Franciscan Order'.

I was drawn forward, as one always is, from the street outside along the center aisle, the vertical beam of the cross, toward the head of the cross where the altar rests.  Most of these churches were designed in the shape of a cross.  The long aisle in the nave is intersected by the horizontal 'cross beam', the transepts on either side being the arms of the cross, and the altar and apse being the head, representing Christ... and so that area of the church gets special attention.

The Altar piece is a fine painting of the martyrdom of one of the two Apostle, though I confess I didn't make note of which one - Phillip or James?  I'll try to find out.

Although the original church was constructed in the 5th century, it didn't survive an earthquake in the 14th century and was abandoned for a long time.  It was rebuilt, of course and the Confessio or crypt was added in the 19th century to provide an extraordinary sacred space to hold the relics of Sts Phillip and James, as well as other martyred Christians from the catacombs.  An inscription explains that Pope Stephen IV walked barefoot in 886 from the catacombs to the church carrying the relics on his shoulders.

Come with me into the crypt...

Staircase descending into the crypt

The Confessio of St Philip and St James, Apostles and Martyrs

The tomb

Standing in the Confessio facing the stairs, looking through to where the other Christians from the Catacombs are reserved

Same view, standing at the foot of the stairs, among the pillars, looking back up into the Church

I guess I don't have to tell you that this is the ceiling

I just have to ask you to try to appreciate the significance of this Church and this Confessio.  I never knew this existed.  I knew, but didn't really grasp, the loving care, concern and veneration that the Church has given to its Martyrs, and of course, its first apostles.  I should have realized that they would treasure every aspect of what could be preserved from their life and death... these 12 men who turned the world upside down.  The sense of connectedness I feel to real history is profound.  I belong to this history.  I am one with the Apostles Philip and James, with the unnamed and unknown martyrs who populated the catacombs after the 'Games' in the Colosseum. 

Every day is a day of discovery... where I learn about my own spiritual heritage.  I am glad to share parts of it with you.  

St Lawrence... and Trajan: Studies in Victory

The idea of the blog is to let a few interested folks follow my short Sabbatical in Rome, and at the moment the primary focus for me is the Station Churches that are part of a pilgrimage for the faithful during Lent.  It is a very ancient practice going back over 1600 years, but only revived in the course of this last generation after falling into disuse.  For me to be here during Lent, and to be able to participate in the pilgimage every morning to the Station churches is a great blessing... and to con-celebrate the Mass there every morning is even better.

This is the road inside the Pontifical North American College grounds that takes me down to the main gate... can't really see the road very well yet, can you?  Me neither.

Its still too dark to take a picture when I leave, but it is getting lighter every day - as you can see in the colour of the sky.


This pic is taken on my way back home pointing back up the low incline hill... although at the end of the walk it seems so much steeper.

The actual seminary is on the left.  The little blue grounds keeper on the right, and his team, keep the place immaculate. The building at the end of the road is where I am staying.  It is called Casa O'Toole... funny name for a Casa in Italy, no?  But I'm part Irish, so I'm good with it.

Casa O'Toole

My room is on what appears to be the third floor... the two windows in the centre, to the left of the open window.  But it only appears to be the third floor.  When you get in the elevator, and in all the bulletins and internal correspondence it is actually the FIRST floor.  The entrance is called -1, the main floor on which you would find the Chapel and where we eat (refectory) is called level 0 and I am ... you guessed it, on the 1st floor.  It used to be a psychiatric care centre, which may explain the numbering?

***********************

In any case, today I left about 05:55 for a 07:00 Mass at St. Lawrence in Panisperna.  Don't let the Panisperna part confuse you.  Its the name of the street / section of the city where you find the Church... but it has meaning, as all names do.  In fact the street name came afterward.  Panis is the Latin word for bread.  There is a famous Catholic hymn called Panis Angelicus which talks about Christ as the Bread of Angels, or the Manna / Bread that came down from heaven. Sperna is ham, and Panisperna refers to the diaconal distribution of bread and ham to the poor on 10 August every year on the feast day of St. Lawrence, the Deacon... the day he was martyred in 258 AD.

I will talk a bit more about his martyrdom in a moment, but for now I will point out something I saw along the way which was quite dramatic and took me by surprise.  I was making my way toward the Church and was still a good 15 minutes away when I decided to take a short cut.  (See how daring I am getting?)  Taking a different path from the one you know can be enlightening and, in this case, pleasantly surprising.  I was winding my way around yet another ancient church that is under restoration and on the other side of it I saw this:

... and then I looked up, and I saw THIS:

It is Trajan's Column.  You have to get up close to it to fully appreciate it.  Look:

Now scroll up to the full picture and imagine this kind of detailed carving spiralling all the way from the bottom of Trajan's Column to the top.  Wow!  Its amazing, really.  It is a victory column, finished in 113 AD, telling the story of Trajan's victory in the Dacian Wars (101-102 and 105-106 AD).  There are actually winding stairs inside so that one could climb to the top... not that I would want to these days.

That is how Trajan commemorated his victories in war.  A little way away there is a Church dedicated to St. Lawrence which commemorates a different kind of victory.  A victory that looks for all the world like miserable defeat.

Not being Aug 10 today, there was no free bread and ham being distributed, but something better.  The approach to this ancient church looks like this:

... but only after you are through the gate into this courtyard.  I didn't go in right away.  See the little door off to the right?  I went in there first.  It is a grotto built on the spot where St. Lawrence was burned to death.  Early Christians made sure that these sites were identified, remembered and that relics associated with the martyrdom were preserved.  Lawrence's friends and fellow believers marked the spot and kept the relics.  They would gather on the spot to pray.  That's how it gets preserved.  That's why I can visit it today.

Inside the church there is a depiction of the martyrdom by fire on the back wall behind the altar.  I tried to take a decent picture of it, but I'm not sure that it really turned out that well.  I couldn't take my eyes off of it.

St Lawrence, the seventh of Pope Sixtus' deacons, in the lower center is being killed by burning, stretched out on a 'gridiron', yes, grill, to be tormented.  The murderous emperor Valerian is a mere shadow in the background as the angel of the Lord descends from heaven with a martyr's crown in his hand.

Also remembered in this Chapel are the martyrs Sts Crispin and Crispinian - brothers who were missionaries in France - tortured and killed like Lawrence, with beatings and fire before being beheaded.  Their relics which were held precious by believers were brought back to Rome and placed under this altar.  I had the privilege to say Mass here as a con-celebrant in the sacred liturgy, as I do every morning.

Then at 0930 I walked to Santissima Trinita dei Pellegrini for my first 'lesson' in saying the Traditional Latin Mass.  More about that in another post.  The morning finished with another session in Moral Theology, followed by Pranzo (lunch).  I didn't make it to the afternoon session because I got caught up doing this blog post... hrmphf!

4Cs = Colosseum, Circus Maximus, Clergy shopping and Caravaggio

As promised, I am going to finish off today with a quick post of mostly pictures from our unintended side trip to the Colosseum earlier this morning and then a few pics from our little excursion to the holy hardware shops this afternoon.

We didn't exactly know how to get home because we didn't take the right path to the Station Church this morning... but what difference does that make? We're in Rome after all, and it is a walking city, in the core.  So, keeping in mind that the sun was still rising in the east, it should have been relatively easy to keep our bearings and wind our way back to our residence at the College.  Not.So.Easy.  Its Rome after all and there isn't a straight street in the whole city.

As we were risking our lives crossing one intersection, I called to my friend that I thought I saw the Colosseum peaking up over the other buildings off to our left.  Sure enough, we were that far off the beaten track... but what a great opportunity to have a look around!  We had the whole morning off, no classes in Moral Theology until this afternoon so, we followed this kind providence that put the Colosseum in our path, along with the Circus Maximus which is nearby.

Picture time:
Hey! Isn't that the Colosseum??

Yes... yes it is:

I've been joking a little bit, but I grew a little more serious as we drew near to this place where not only the Games were held, but the brutal slaughter and execution of thousands of Christians.  'Games' which were really a cruel and sadistic form of entertainment at the expense of the many martyrs of the early church.

As we made several more wrong turns, we had the occasion to wander through some archaeological digs and restoration attempts of old churches right beside the Colosseum... so we had a chance to approach this grand display of Roman architectural genius from several different angles, each so very impressive... but as I said, always sobering because my brothers and sisters died there, horribly, by the thousands.  That makes it holy ground to me.

The Circus Maximus hasn't hosted any Games or chariot races since the 6th Century.  This is what it would have looked like:

This is what it looked like not so long ago.  This morning I walked along the track that once was like our NASCAR speedway.  

I strolled leisurely where chariots used to race.  There is very little left of this magnificent structure, but the ruins that you can see above on the right hand side of the photo are massive.  It is hard to imagine it, unless you're standing there.

The path to Sts. John and Paul Station Church led right along this racetrack earlier this week, but I didn't even know where I was, or why there was this vast open space in the middle of what is usually a densely packed city. Now I know.

And lastly, some clergy shopping.  Please bear in mind that this blog was originally intended for about 15 family members and a few friends... so it is somewhat 'familiar'.  I am not a blogger.  So, tune out if you like for this next part.

There is a Euroclero shop perched on the edge of St. Peter's Square (which is round).  You know that the quality and the price is going to be somewhere near the top of the market... it was.  I tried on an alb that really seemed to suit me.  I asked the price twice and finally got an answer.  670 euros.  The exchange rate is about 1.5 right now... so that is close to CDN$ 1,000.00  For an alb!

Having politely excused ourselves from that shop, we found another which was closer to the beer salary that I am working with on this trip.  So, I bought an alb, cincture, and amice.

White alb with cincture tied in knots around the hanger

Remember the biretta that I bought?  With the tassel / pom-pom still tied up? Well, its not tied up now, is it?  I went over to the TLM church Santissima Trinita dei Pellegrini and sat in 'choir' for the Latin Mass on Monday night and I had the chance to take the biretta for a test drive.  It wasn't the racetrack of the Circus Maximus, but with that pom-pom... ??  I don't know if I can wear it - looking like that.

One last thing: on our way to the priest store we stopped in at a French church, St. Louis, and inside there were three (3) Caravaggio  paintings on the call of Matthew from being a tax collector to his martyrdom.  OH MY!  I said earlier in a post that the Caravaggio I saw this week was priceless. Some one told me that apparently they are valued at $20 million a piece...  but money can never be the measure of these paintings.  I won't try to put words to this observation, just to say that it was a real privilege to stand there and contemplate the story that these paintings so magnificently portray.