We love Papa! And Espresso!

I had certainly hoped to have posted more pictures of Rome by now, but it’s an arduous process on an iPad, and frankly most nights my husband and I are so beat, we get back to our lodgings and pass out.  And since he is missing television in English, I have been surrendering the device to him so he can watch sitcom classics. I figure it is the least I can do for a guy who treats me so well!

If you are starved for pictures, though, Mary has posted some great ones!

Church Up-Close participant Charles Lewis has also filed a report on one of our classes

I have only managed the one piece so far.  I will have lots to write when I get home, I promise.  For now all I can say is that I find all of this to be a most humbling gift–to tour the Vatican museums yesterday guided by the delightful and brilliant Elizabeth Lev was such a highlight that only one thing could top it, and that of course would be this morning’s general audience with the pope.  Papa is fully on his game, wise and endearing, and it was worth all of the pain of my locked-up arthritic knees (I am better off walking than standing around!) to see and hear him.  I confess to lingering in the hall until he had fully left the stage–such a fangirl, I am!

My gut had told me to avoid touring the Scavi because it does not lend itself to the fat, the arthritic or the claustrophobic, and since I am all three, it seemed like the triple crown of bad ideas, and my word, one does sweat, down there…but it was worth it.  While guiding us through the Vatican museums, Lev had beautifully referred to Peter’s tomb, noting that the ancient Romans had thought they’d thrown Peter out like some trash, when in fact they had planted a seed; gazing however briefly upon all of it…well it just reinforced my feeling that all time is illusory.  Peter’s grave before my eyes in the 21st century, the long thread of Christianity reaching across two thousand years to connect us within our same love of Christ.  Headstrong, faulty Peter, as imperfect as the rest of us, yet given the keys; permitted–with James and John–to witness the transfiguration, and even having his taxes paid through the mouth of a fish!  We meet that rock within a church that is both literally and figuratively built upon him.  Beyond moving, it is a challenging encounter.  What a privilege!

My husband and I had skipped breakfast and by the time we’d wended our way through the audience crowds and the Scavi, we were drained.  Refreshment came in the form of fizzy water, salad, the best pasta bolognese ever and not one but two cups of espresso enjoyed under a canvas-umbrella’d sidewalk cafe, as a thunderstorm rolled by. Then it was off to another class while my husband visited St. Ignatius Church, and the chapel dedicated to St. Aloysius Gonzaga, for all of our Jesuit friends. He prayed the for everyone who asked prayers for their children to return to the faith.

Altar of St. Aloysius Gonzaga

Check back for more.  I bring all of you, and your intentions, with me, and that is my privilege, too!