On February 26, I accompanied my colleague Paul Murphy and his class to Roma. It was an intense week of Roman history, politics, religion, and self-discovery. This trip was special, blessed with the knowledge and passion for Rome of my colleague. Thanks to Paul, I came to know Roma in a far more intimate way. We traveled, mostly by foot, through neighborhoods and through time. Roma is a complex city, a contrast between the ancient and the modern. I was struck by the grandeur of city, specifically its churches. These churches are testaments to the faith, certainly, but they are also museums, keepers of history, and vibrant centers of modern Catholicism dedicated to the foundations of Catholic social teaching---serving the poor, the vulnerable, the marginalized.
What impressed me most was how a particular church served as a portal to understanding the place of ancient churches in the education of the faithful. Sculptures, paintings, and mosaics all served to tell the story of the faith. From the simple Byzantine with their static presentations of things religious, to those places inspired by the Renaissance holding classic features of archways and columns, to the Baroque assault on the senses all movement, asymmetry and color, all led to one place---a greater understanding of the role of faith in the lives of the faithful.
I left overwhelmed by several pieces of art and one special place. The art, a painting and a sculpture, were in one place. The painting was a Caravaggio---the Madonna and the Pilgrims that was exquisite. There was Mary holding the infant Jesus, wrapped in a towel. Mary was leaning against the doorway, balancing Christ on her hip, talking with two pilgrims on their knees dirty from the road, seeking refuge for the night. It is hard to explain, but the humanity embedded in this painting is truly amazing. So casual, so simple, so human.
In the same church, a Michelangelo statue of "Il Christo," Christ with his Cross nearly brought me to tears. The figure of Christ was so human, so soft of features, yet he cradled his cross in strong hands. This piece of art was extremely moving. It is now my desktop background.
The place---the apartments of St. Ignatius Loyola will always remain special to me. This was quite a setting. The apartment area was very simple, modest furnishings and lighting, and included a chapel where we celebrated mass to close our trip. There were 28 of us in the space which made it quite informal, warm and intimate. We celebrated the mass in remembrance of Daniel Murphy, my colleague's son, who died far too young. The celebration was an emotionally overwhelming experience for all of us. I will never forget this mass.
I went to Roma expecting time to decompress from work and spend time with students and my friend Paul. The vacation soon became a pilgrimage. Our trips through the myriad of churches and basilicas in Rome led me to experience my faith in a way I never thought possible. There is something mystical about the churches of Rome. The smell, the lighting, the interplay of light and dark create a very different host for contemplation and prayer. The Roman churches were very different in character and purpose than churches here in the States. American churches, especially those of newer construction are rather sanitized, almost Puritan in their make-up. The churches in Roma were influenced by different times, different movements of history, all contributing to a style quite contrary to the style of the American church. There seemed to be a heaviness to the air in these Roman churches that swaddled you in a way I've not experienced in the U.S. Faith weighs on you differently, you can feel it, smell it, see it. I've come home with a greater sense of peace and greater understanding of my place in this moment in time. I hope the feeling lasts.
