On the Way Home

As I sit here in great anticipation awaiting the advent of my school's new on-line exam reservation system, I thought we might share in a moment of reflection if you will. Many of you I'm sure know that I live here in the Eternal City of Rome and have for over a year by now. Yesterday, what with it being Sunday and all, I found myself in a church pew as Christians are like to every now and again. My body was tired, and I did not feel much like attending a service in a cold and distant marble prison, where no one speaks to one another except when they are told, no one in this world sings the hymns but the priest and his little helpers because no one knows the hymns that we sing, and where its a free-for-all when we attempt to recite the creed which in the end proves to be somewhat of a race to the final word. Amen. Let it be. The only problem is that when we've gotten there, we forget what we are 'letting be' because we've zipped by so quickly. Sunday is, however, the Lord's day and it is to be celebrated, even if the company isn't the sunniest. So, what did I encounter on the way home? A church! (Indeed, it would be a feat for all humanity in and of itself if one could go a single day without passing by a church ediface in this town.) It was not just any church though - it was the Basilica of Saint John Lateran. You know, the official Basilica of Rome...the site of Papal residence until the time of the Avignon Papacy in the 14th century...glorious works of art and architecture built to the praise of the Lord's name. Any of this ring a bell?

So, I entered the church not expecting much but 45 minutes of pure frustration culminating in the eurcharistic celebration (quite likely the only part I enjoy) and took my place among the middle rows of the nave, or central area, which faces directly the principle altar. Flannery O'Conner once said, "The only thing that makes the world bearable is the Church, and the only thing that makes the Church bearable is the eucharist." With that thought floating around in my mind as the service began, I started to believe it. You'll never guess what took place at the entrance song. We began with a hymn that no one was aqcuainted with but the priest and his happy helperton. Joyful days are here to stay. I must say though, a fierce chord struck deep within me as the scripture readings came into play. The Pauline letter was from Phillipians 1:3-11.

I was taken back by Paul's words. His expression is so rich with passion and love for his fellow Christians. Are the members of his community perfect, angelic beings? No. They are all human beings involved in things of a human nature. Nothing extraordinary. Paul's affection for them in the love and charity of Christ drove him and urged him on to impress in many the same dream. He was so impressive to the extent that he was imprisoned for it and eventually sentanced to death by beheading. He writes this letter, Phillipians, from prison if I'm not mistaken. There he sits, trapped in a cage, veiled by metal bars. For many, all of life would be eclipsed by the thought of dying a captive. For Paul it was not so. His heart continued to make the journey to his companions by prayer and parchment. Engrossed in thought, I glanced up as the homily trudged on in our mass and suddenly made sense of the principle altar itself and its design. The cupola overarching the altar displays two golden statues, Peter and Paul, encaged in a series of golden bars. I thought very simply, that is what it takes to make a saint. A saint is someone who is able to see beyond the moment and the mechanics of life to God's greater glory and his ultimate victory in the love of Christ. As the Germans say, Wir leben in der Hoffnung. We live in hope. What other reason do we have to hope but Christ?