The Foreign and the Familiar

The place I have never been to in all the years of my life.  The one place that everyone has been to and has praised beyond end, but has hidden from me.  I finally get to go: the beach.

Now, a clarification on a definition.  According to me, I have been to a beach before as I have been to shores of Lake Erie more than several times.  However, according to all of my peers, one has never been to a beach unless one goes to a saltwater beach.

Well, I will gladly take the Mediterranean Sea as my first trip to the beach!   The day after Easter no one has classes, so a trip is organized, and I go with a large group to the edge of the Italian Peninsula.  The sun shines bright in the sky, and the moment finally comes.  Taking my shoes off to run barefoot, I first feel the dark, almost black, sand between my toes, a thick smooth texture.  Running along this ground of an foreign planet, I catch sight of the main attraction:  the shore.  Now it looks like any other beach on Lake Erie, but I have not been to one in so long that it looks as if I just found a brand new paradise.  The rhythm of the waves against the sand beat steadily as I stroll towards the edge, and the water washes my sand covered feet.  I took a seat near the edge and just sat there.  I could have been there forever, just being one with God's creation, thinking of nothing except the waves of the sea.

Now fast forward to Saturday evening.  I find myself on an excursion to Southern Italy, staying a hotel in Paestum, a town near the city of Naples.  The hotel is located only a two minutes walk from that glorious place where ocean and continent meet.  After walking through a buffalo farm and ancient Greek temples, it has been an exhausting day, but two of my friends and I are determined to see the sun set over that scene that caught my attention so well earlier in the week. We nearly ran there out of excitement, only to run into some other Duquesne students who went down earlier.  "Aw, what a shame.  You guys just missed the sunset".  Just missed it?  Well, we decide to go anyway, even though I am slightly dissapointed.  We missed God's big show, the point where all the colors that ever existed surround the great power of light that shines through the day. 

Reaching the beach, we have a seat on the soft sand to take in any remnants of the show.  The feeling of the sand once again between my toes, and the sound of the crashing waves bring back pleasant memories of Monday's trip.  However, this visit held a new surprise:  the show was not over.  Although the orange sun had disappeared, God still had painted the sky into a masterpiece of color.  Most of the sky was a deep blue by this point, but a strip of light blue introduced the bright orange and yellow placed lower in the sky.  Over all of this is specks of a dark pink, outlining the absent sun, and the purple of the light streaks of clouds.  In front of this natural postcard I no longer sat in the still slightly foreign atmosphere of the beach, but rather at home.  The silence of awe between the three students in the sand felt right.  No need to say anything.  Rather, we needed to take in one of the best scene of our lives.  If heaven felt like this, I would have no problem staying forever. 

My week however, is not defined by the triumph of the beach, but also shadowed a bit by the defeats in the city center of Rome.  Tuesday brought more of the sun shining, the warmth, and no class, so I walked around Rome in the afternoon.  Many people had suggested this one place to get gelato, and I planned on visiting some sites in the area, so I took a swing on by  for ice cream.  Although kind of hidden in the midst of several side streets, I was able to find my way using landmarks I had become familiar with in the past three months.  Feeling very accomplished, I took my gelato and took an immediate right and down a couple blocks where I knew to be the spacious Piazza Navona.  The tasty treat and the people watching completed my afternoon.

Fast forward this story to Thursday Evening.  After going out to dinner near Piazza Navona, my friends wanted to get gelato at that same place I went to earlier in the week.  I was fine, as I even knew how to get there.  Or so I thought.  I lead my little group to the Piazza, down a street, and taking a left.  No ice cream.  The moon shone brightly in the night as suddenly, this area I have been around so much for the past three months looked like a place I had never been before.  Perhaps I just didn't go down the street far enough.  No, what about taking a left here?  No again.  It takes asking at least five storekeepers for directions, and passing the same bus stop three times to find it.  The gelato never tasted more delicious and well deserved.  The cold, thick and creamy treat with chocolate pieces refresh my mouth after my huge disaster.  Yes, I did get my gelato eventually, but I knew the route!  I had taken it before and I should have easily been able to navigate these streets!  Yet I failed in this mission, and it was certainly not my best moment in the city of Rome. 

The Best Lesson of All

HAPPY EASTER EVERYONE!!!!!

I spent the Easter Triduum in Rome.  Let me just take a moment to realize how truly blessed I am to be in this place in this time.

Allow me to begin with Holy Thursday.  That beautiful day on which Jesus gives himself to us in the Eucharist and begins his passion with the Agony of the Garden.  If spending Easter week in Rome was not blessed enough, I am able to spend this very night with Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane through a traditional Roman Church Crawl.  It goes like this. Each and every glorious church in Rome (as I have already spoken on) has a separate altar of repose for the Blessed Sacrament after the Holy Thursday Mass, decorated to represent the Garden where the Lord went after the Last Supper.  Romans have the tradition of going around to all of these different altars in all of these different churches to spend time with the Lord.  I had the wonderful chance to tour nine different churches, each with a different altar to house the Lord. One had a blood red curtain surrounding the blessed sacrament, another had dozens of candles in paths surrounding the altar, while yet another had flowers all over. I have never seen more beautiful gardens in to spend my time with the Lord. Each church I attend brings to mind the loneliness, fear, and pain that Jesus went through in the Garden, and how sacred of a moment this is, that the pain has begun, and that journey of Love is only just begun.

The story of Love reaches the climax on Good Friday.  I was so blessed on this day to first, go to an English celebration of the Passion of Christ.  It was the first time I have ever heard the entire passion story sung, but the sung gospel pulled me into the story as if I was standing amongst the Jewish people on the day of the crucifixion.  Furthermore, seeing each and every person of the packed chapel venerate that beautiful crucifix, I knew that this is the moment.  The moment of the greatest act of Love ever and the greatest act of love that will ever be.  The moment that Jesus, all out of Love for us, gave himself completely and totally for us, following only the worst journey of Jesus’ life in the way of the cross. As for me, after the service, I have the chance to visit the very relics of the passion at S. Croce in Gerusalemme. The actual cross of Jesus stands in front of me, as well as the nail that pierced his body, thorns from the crown of mockery, and the original sign of Pontius Pilate that states: King of the Jews. These took part in that greatest act of Love that I celebrate today. I can barely comprehend what these inanimate objects have seen. The day completes with the walking down the Via Croce (Way of the Cross) with about 500,000 people and Pope Francis outside of the Colosseum. The least that all of the Church can do celebrate how much he Loved us, that he took on all of his pain to forgive our sins, and walk with him. The large metal flaming cross which stands behind Pope Francis is a reminder of the fire of Love that is the cross, reflecting the candles that each and every person in the crowd holds, uniting each of us to that cross. This is the day for the Church to celebrate, for by Jesus’ cross, she is redeemed.

Fast forward to the most beautiful day of days, Easter!  Jesus Christ has conquered the grave, brought light to darkness, opened the gates of heaven for us to have eternal life!  Although he apparently opened the gates of heaven a little too wide and let all of the rain escape.


Easter Sunday mass is the one event of the semester I was most looking forward to, so waking up Easter Morning and getting ready to go to St. Peter's is one of the most glorious feelings in the world.  I arrive at the square just when the gates open at 8:00, and the completely gray sky pouring down a steady flow of rain.  This keeps going, and going, and going.  Mass starts at 10:15, it keeps going.  Mother nature finally decided it was enough by 11:30, and by this time the Liturgy of the Eucharist had already begun.  (Do you see that sea of umbrellas in the square?)

But who cares about rain? Jesus is risen from the dead and I could not have been to a more beautiful mass for it.  The choir were angels resounding an Alleluia throughout the square  . The joy continued afterwards, as I remain for the Urbi et Orbi blessing of the people, the blessing of the pope that is so strong that it descends upon myself, and transfers to my family, friends, and any people I might be thinking of.  So many wonderful blessings upon this holy day of days!

I walk out of St. Peter's with a mix of feelings.  It is Easter, Christ is risen, I have been blessed by joining in the celebration of mass with Pope Francis, and listened to him address the entire church throughout the world.  Spiritually, I can not be more fulfilled than at this moment.  However, as the rain has seeped through my thin raincoat only to be absorbed by my cotton sweater, I stand in a physical mess.  I am hungry, thirsty, shivering with cold, and wet all over.  Absolutely none of my physical need have been met.  If anything, they have been taken away from me while mass was going on. Kind of annoyed by this, I try my best to take an optimist's perspective.  There must be some reason to this paradox.


Well, what is Easter?  It is the day where Jesus defeats death, sin, everything of this world, and gives all people the chance for eternal life with him forever in heaven. He opens the gates of heaven so that you and I and everyone might get to know God personally.  So this is the lesson, that God loves us so much to open the door to us.  And God cannot be reached by walking to heaven.  The important part is the soul, and educating the spirit to reach God.  So, yes, I may have been a little uncomfortable, but it doesn’t really matter, because I met God that day. 

Or this could all be me doing an over analysis of the situation.  Nevertheless, I had the most beautiful chance to celebrate the greatest story of Love in the center of the Catholic Church, the body of Love. Through this week I have learned the most important lesson of all:  That of God's love, and how it sets us free.  
 
To top off this holy blog, I shouldn't even need to introduce this Postcard Scavenger Hunt find #10.  St. Peter's dome in all of it's glory towering over the entire city of Rome.  And no, I did not take this on Easter.  This was on a much dryer and much more gorgeous day.