August 19, 2019
Silence in the face of evil is
itself evil:
God will not hold us guiltless.
Not to speak is to speak.
Not to act is to act. (Dietrich Boenhoffer)*
Today is the feast of Saint Bernard Tolomei (1272-1348), the
founder of the Olivetan Congregation. I have a special place in my affections
for this congregation since I spent many a day living at their monastery San
Miniato al Monte, my first trip to Italy and several times after, and also
because our Monastery of the Risen Christ is a former Olivetan community. (Our
Fr. Thomas Matus told me that during the Second Vatican Council there was talk
of actually uniting our congregations. Wouldn’t that have been interesting?) We
monks are all going over to the nuns’ at Sant’Antonio for Mass and dinner
tonight, and George has asked me to preside. I don’t have to preach, but I did
prepare a short introduction in honor of the Siennese saint.
The other reason I have a special love for Bernard Tolomei
is that in his own way he represents our own triplex bonum–three-fold good. At the beginning of his monastic
life he lives as a hermit––with three of his friends––and with a “great
contempt for the world.” (This is echoed in the opening prayer from the
Benedictine Sacarmentary: “you called Bernard Tolomei from le seduzioni di una vita mondana––the seductions of the worldly
life.” This may be a play on words in Italian––I wouldn’t put it past
them––because ‘mondana’ also means a
“prostitute.”) Later, at the urging of the local bishop and attracting more and
more followers, they began a rigorous cenobitic life. But the thing that really
touched me, for all his contempt for the world, is that when the plague hit the
land Bernardo and his brothers threw themselves into caring for victims of the
plague until they themselves died of it and were buried with other victims in a
common grave. No one knows where his remains are, like a seed that fell into
the ground and died.
Back to my own days in Tuscany, if it be of interest…
Last Wednesday don Alessandro and I had an appointment with
the nuns at Poppi. That city is known for the castle on top of the hill that
can be seen for miles, and our monastery is tucked right into it at the very
top. There are now six nuns there, including Debora, the novice who did the
poetry reading the other night, an Indian, and Pole and a French nun from our
monastery in Poland that closed recently. This kind of mixture even in a small
group is not atypical for our houses. At our own lunch today here at San
Gregorio, Alessandro––not the prior general––was the only Italian: other than
him there was a Pole, an Indian, a Brazilian and me.
The little monastery in Poppi is an enchanting place and the
sisters have done a wonderful job of making a welcoming environment of it. The
Indian sister Regina, who I met first back at Shantivanam in 2002, cooked a lot
of the food, including some Indian vegetarian dishes that she was quite pleased
to offer especially for me. She is becoming well known in the area for this
skill and has even taught classes to locals. Patrizia is an artist and makes
beautiful tapestries, one of which I have commissioned her to make for us for
our new Chapel of Reconciliation (though I haven’t passed that by Raniero yet
who is helping me with that project, so don’t tell him). We first had a house
meeting about some congregation business, which was quite interesting. We had
pretty much decided what we were going to do five minutes into the meeting, but
it took us another hour of talking to agree to it. It was fascinating being on
the inside of an Italian meeting! (Actually it reminded me a little of my one
encounter with the USCCB.)
That night then was the Vigil of the Assumption. The
Assumption is a liturgical solemnity in America too, but here in Italy it is a
major secular holiday as well, the real ferragosto.
I had no idea about the extent of it. A practice that I picked up from the
Italians that we now do once a month at the Hermitage as well is to have
Vespers early (or in private) the night before a solemnity and then celebrate
the Vigil the night before. (We at NCH then have a sleep in until 8:00 AM when
Lauds is held. I call it the “Prior’s Special Birthday Schedule” because the
first time we did it was for St. Romuald’s Day a few years back.) We all
trucked down to the monastery from the Sacro Eremo and the nuns came in from
all over, and the church was also filled with lay people. Alessandro presided,
the very talented organist Thomas and cantor Emanuele led the sung liturgy,
with a few other extra cantors from different communities stepping, and various
readers, lay and monastic. A good thing there were some extras: there were 11
psalms and five readings! (Thanks be to God there was no homily.) And only
after all that and solemn proclamation of the Gospel was I supposed to sing something,
and I did, “Mary Woman of the Promise,” a melody that I love very much and play
on the guitar all the time, but this was the first time I had ever sung it. It
was so nice, I sang it again the next day at Mass at the Hermitage.
August 20
The next day my dear friends Stefano and Pamela and their
two kids, formerly of Florence, now of Treviso near Venezia, came to Mass and
lunch and to whisk me away down to Luisa’s house, Stefano’s Mom, in Florence
for a little vacation time. Stefano and I met through a mutual acquaintance
over our common interest in India, he through Abhishiktananda, two of whose
works he has translated into Italian. We spent several very intense periods of
study and practice together here in Italy, particularly back in 2005 when I
stayed for about five weeks. I then was here in 2008 to celebrate their
wedding. And it is at Luisa’s table that I spent many a night eating and
conversing about so many things, and one of those places where I learned a good
deal of whatever Italian I know. Luisa’s home in Florence is crammed full of
books and toys and artifacts from all over the world. At 78 years old she still
travels to Africa once or twice a year helping with an NGO for housing and
health issues. She is also very well versed in all things theological and
always has deep theological questions and strong opinions. Luckily my answers
usually please her!
We had a great couple of days together, a place where I feel
perfectly at home, enough to get up early in the morning and make my own coffee
in the moka pot. It was a whole other education in all kinds of things to spend
that much time also with the kids. Francesco is now 10 and Alice (pronounced
Ah–LEE-chay) is 6, and they have a whole other vocabulary (not surprisingly,
given the level of erudition in the family, they are both very articulate) as
well as a whole other way of looking at the world. Francesco was absolutely
captivated by the guitar and was very pleased to help me change a string that
had broken. My favorite moment with Alice was when we were at the Palazzo Pitti
the next day, and I wanted to drift off and get a coffee. I asked Francesco if
he wanted to walk with me and he declined. So I started to talk away and they
called me back because Alice, who is usually a little diffident with new
people, wanted to go with me. So there we were walking hand in hand down the
streets of Florence in search of an open BAR.
And, yes, as I mentioned, Friday we had a grand tour of the
Pitti Palace, the storied home of the Medicis when they were the archdukes (a
title they invented for themselves, I’m told, since they were not really
royalty), including many long galleries chock full of art, as well as their
private apartments, chapels, the throne room, bathing rooms. Amazing huge
place. There was so much art that Luisa took to pointing the most important
pieces out to me as we traipsed from one gallery to the next. They all took the
kids home about 1 and left me to explore more of the space, including the
gallery of modern art, which by the way includes art all the way up to the 19th
century and the Impressionists! I guess that’s modern for Italy? I checked with
Pamela, who graduated in art history, and indeed this is true. Anything after
the Renaissance is considered “modern” and anything from the 20th
century on is considered contemporary. (Needless to say, there was nothing contemporary.) I then spent an
hour wandering around the historic centro
of Florence, this time more than ever savoring memories of my first time there
exactly 20 years ago this very month, when Raniero and I lived for four weeks
at San Miniato and walked down every day for Italian lessons before General
Chapter in 1999, the Piazza della
Reppublica, the Ponte Vecchio,
the church of Santa Felicita where
reside the beautiful frescoes of Pontormo that I used for the CD cover of “The
Song of Luke,” Santa Croce with its famous beautiful piazza. Florence bears the unique distinction of the entire city
being patrimony of UNESCO.
Saturday, before I headed back down to Rome that afternoon,
we went to Fiesole, just another charming city on top of a hill above Florence.
There in Fiesole there are the scavi–the
“digs,” archeological sites that have been uncovered. Both of the parents being
teachers, this of course was a total nerd fest. There is an old Roman theatre
there, plus a Roman temple built on an old Etruscan temple, and the remains of
ancient Roman baths, as well as a museum that was founded back in the early 20th
century (hence, “modern” though not contemporary). Then back to Luisa’s for a
final pranzo, Stefano accompanied me
to Santa Maria Novella where we finally had an hour to ourselves to check in
about life, before I headed back down to my clean quiet air conditioned room at
San Gregorio. (I snuck in while the brothers were having dinner.)
Our confrere from the Eremo di San Giorgio in Garda, Roman,
showed up yesterday to stay a couple of days. He is a very tall Pole who is a
good friend of George. He and I were also in India together in 2000, my first
time there, and the three of us were happy to be reunited. He’s also gregarious
and came bearing gifts of prosciutto,
vino and olio. As I mentioned, last night the five of
us, plus a young layman named Claudio who is in residence here, went to
Sant’Antonio to have Mass and dinner with the nuns. They are always so gracious
and happy to see the guys. And this time, Sr. Anna-Maria, who is in charge
while Madre Michela is away, gushed over us and said something like, “It’s
always so wonderful to see you, and this time so many of you!” I had presided,
singing the presidential prayers, and Br. Alessandro had preached a homily that
was appreciated by all, so they felt like we had given them a great gift too.
One last cherry on the cake, as we were walking home, Alessandro had the idea that
we should all walk to Piazza Navona,
and so we did. It was about a half an hour walk, but well worth it. I actually
now feel badly: when people ask me I usually say that I actually don’t like
Rome that much, too noisy, dirty, crowded, and too many bishops and monuments
to popes and cardinals. But this trip I have seen another side of Rome, both at
Laura’s house and last night wandering around with Alessandro leading. He knows
the city well and was pointing various thing as we passed––including the original
Jewish ghetto and kosher Italo-ebraico restaurants, the seat of government
(which is in total disarray right now), and the only library of Italian film.
Of course the piazza itself was full
of life, as was then the Pantheon where we headed on our way home. Finally he
led us to a huge gelateria called 150
Gusti––beats Baskin and Robbins 36
flavors.
Now my backpack and guitar are packed and I am ready to head
to Roma Termini for the overnight
train to Sicilia.
*
This was quoted by Anthony Scaramucci on the idea of replacing Donald Trump on
the Republican ticket.
