the inside story...

 Saturday 21 October. 

It has been an interesting week, that’s for sure. We’ve been doing our morning singing every day, of course. We’ve been trying out more musical variations as much to keep ourselves interested as anything, importing different music for Mass, chanting more with the zither and guitar. We have gotten lots of comments from folks about how nice it is to start the day with chanting and prayer. Matteo passed on an article in Italian, from the Avvenire[1] that starts out saying that here at the Synod “the liturgy has a Benedictine soul. The voices make the psalms more vivacious, and the instruments give harmony.” The author especially likes the use of the zither (cetra) that Sr Miriam plays, comparing it to the salterio in the psalter.

Monday I met an acquaintance of mine at the Pontifical Institute of the Holy Cross––Santa Croce. His name is Brian Humphrey, a not-long ordained priest of the Archdiocese of LA. I know him through Paul Ford in Camarillo and from some work I did there some years ago, but he and I also have several musical friends in common. He is here in Rome now doing his doctorate at the invitation of Archbishop Gomez at the Opus Dei university. I had the guys drop me off after singing on the Lungotevere and prepared myself for a long walk to find Santa Croce. But thanks to the GPS on my phone, I made it very quickly into a very dense little neighborhood where I had never been before. I have figured out by now that Rome is made up of one dense little neighborhood after another. Brian met me, gave me a tour of the school, and treated me to a coffee at a local bar. He thought we would only have an hour together because he had a meeting to get to at 11, but we were enjoying our conversation so much that he thought he might be able to get out of his meeting quickly, which he did. And so, we were able to spend the next three hours together, with him giving me a tour of his favorite spots in the area. 

We began to walk from Santa Croce to where he is lodging, at the Casa Santa Maria. That place has the fame of being the original North American College, gifted to the Yanks by Pius IX. Along the way we stopped at the Basilica of Sant’Agostino where Saint Monica is buried. In that church there is Caravaggio’s painting of Madonna dei Pelligrini and a well-known fresco of the Prophet Isaiah done by the noted Renaissance painter and architect Raffaello. Then onto Santa Maria sopra Minerva that houses the body of Saint Catherine of Siena––and you can go right up to the tomb and lean on it!––as well as Michelangelo’s statue of Christ the Redeemer. And finally, to the Church of Saint Louis (Luigi dei Francesi) where there is a triptych of Caravaggio paintings of Saint Matthew in the Capella Contarelli. You could hardly get a headier mix of religion and art culture. And then we had lunch at a little local joint called Abruzzi, which was just delightful, but not as delightful as the conversation. Brian is very well-read and very interested in so many things, particularly Aquinas and Augustine and the Cappadocian fathers, as well as in contemplative prayer. 

Of course, we were also in the neighborhood of the Gregorian, the Biblicum, the Gesù, the Panthenon, not far from Piazza Navona, and we even passed Sant’Eustachio, thinking of Raniero as I went by.

Wednesday there was a big Mass for the whole synod for which we did not have to sing, but Thomas, Emanuele and I had kind of a busman’s holiday and went in for it anyway. As I have mentioned, one of our monks, Federico, is doing his degree at the Pontifical Institute of Sacred Music and the choir from there was singing for this particular Mass. As opposed to our humble Masses at 7:30 AM, for this one, at 8:45, the Holy Spirit Chapel was full. The whole presbytery was filled with cardinals and bishops, about 12 pews on the right side to the chapel were filled with bishops and the whole other side filled with non-ordained. And the music was pristine traditional Catholic high church, a stunning organist making the place nearly shudder with is solo pieces, the choir moving back and forth between Gregorian chant and polyphony, all in Latin. You could tell that it was just this kind of thing that the PIMS trains these folks for. There were definitely concessions made for the assembly to sing as well; there was a nice worship aid and the music laid out for when we alternated with the choir. We were all surprised that with what must have been 500 people there, not counting the choir, the whole Mass only took just over an hour, very well organized and executed, with our Matteo like the drum major for the whole thing.

I was sitting just a few pews behind Bishop Barron, who I had already seen a few times in the Synod Hall. Afterward as we were standing around waiting to leave, I had a chance to meet and talk with him. I introduced myself and where I was from, and he remembered two things about New Camaldoli: the stars at night and Bruno’s book, The Good Wine. He is taller than I had imagined and a very nice guy. There were a few other things I wanted to talk to him about, but the crowd was thick, and it didn’t seem an opportune moment. I did tell him as we were walking out that there were only two times I was tempted to steal a book, and one of those times was in England when somebody loaned me a copy of his And Now I See, which I’ve consequently foisted on a number of unsuspecting postulants and observers.

One funny thing happened on the way into Mass. We were not in our habits that day and had taken the Metro in instead of driving. But we still had our badges and Matteo had urged us to go in the same way we had been coming in for the Synod and skip the lines, which we did. So now we were wandering around the back of the basilica without much to do, and suddenly I look over to my right and there was the Holy Father in his popemobile with a couple of his security people getting ready to be driven into the square for the Wednesday audience. It was like being backstage at a play, seeing him relax and chat with the gentlemen who no doubt take very good daily care of him. I was also surprised at how little security there was, as I have been this whole week in Paul VI Hall.

By the way, Pope Francis’ Wednesday talk was superb, on Charles de Foucald. I watched it later online.[2] And here are a couple of delicious quotes from it, typically Francis.

 

“Let us not forget that God’s style is summarized in three words: proximity, compassion and tenderness. God is always near, he is always compassionate, he is always tender. And Christian witness must take this road: of proximity, compassion and tenderness.”

 

“Yes, but how is this done? Like Mary in the mystery of the Visitation: ‘in silence, by example, by life’. By life, because ‘our whole existence’, writes Brother Charles, ‘must cry out the Gospel’. And very often our existence calls out worldliness, it calls out many stupid things, strange things, and he says: ‘No, all our existence must shout out the Gospel’.”

 

This is a recent sub-theme of the pope’s: worldliness. He brought it up in his opening address on October 4 too; he thinks the church is too worldly and he has a new little book out on that called Santi, non mondani––“Saints, Not Worldly.”

Another notable happening that same day was that I met Sr. Maria Cimperman for lunch. Maria is a sister of the congregation Religious of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, on the faculty of Chicago Theological Union, a well-known author and speaker on consecrated life, now working part time also in Rome, and also one of the facilitators at the Synod. She was also our much-appreciated retreat leader two years ago at the Hermitage. It was a bit of comedy trying to meet up just outside of St. Peter’s Square with the throngs of people all rushing to find lunch, but through a series of text messages we did find each other and sat at a restaurant I had scoped out on my way in, somewhat off the beaten path. We sat there for the better part of three hours talking about the future (and the present) of religious life. She told me what she could about the process inside the synod hall itself without revealing any of the sharing itself and of course, as always, was a great resource for official documents. She is also working for the International Union of Superiors General and shared with me its contribution as well. I was especially moved by a document called “The Spiritual Conversation,” that she says they are following for every module of the synod in their small groups around tables (circhi minori) which includes active listening and speaking from the heart. How about these rules for group therapy?

·       Listen actively and attentively 

·       Listen to others without judgment 

·       Pay attention not only to the words, but also to the tone and feelings of the one who is speaking 

·       Avoid the temptation of using the time to prepare what you will say instead of listening

·       Speak intentionally 

·       Express your experiences, thoughts, and feelings as clearly as you can 

·       Listen actively to yourself, mindful of your own thoughts and feelings as you speak 

·       Monitor possible tendencies to be self-centred when speaking. 

And then there is a two-hour process that includes periods of silence. I think this is just brilliant and kudos to whoever put it together. I do not believe there has ever been anything like this in the history of the church, especially with lay people and women involved. We just found out that there is going to be a letter addressed to the world issued in the name of the entire synod at the end of this year’s session.

Thursday was kind of a highlight day for me. Matteo had several times mentioned that he wanted to use the guitar for some things and Sr. Miriam who plays the cetra had as well, but I wasn’t sure how to work it in when the decisions were being made. I did accompany the woman singing Nada Te Turbe one day, and then accompanied a psalm another day, but Thursday I was tapped to play for the musical meditation after the reading, usually played on the cetra or else the organ. I don’t tell people often: I could sing in front of anyone without any problem but I am actually very nervous playing solo pieces on the guitar and do so rarely in public, though I practice pretty much every day. Well, this was not a time to be nervous, in front of 300+ cardinals, bishops and others, on live television being filmed to YouTube––and then the Pope shows up! My palms were sweaty, but I took a deep breath, and it came off flawlessly. With my little travel guitar that I have grown to love so much. To watch it later on YouTube and see the Holy Father with his eyes, closed listening was very moving. I was thinking of when I wrote that particular song when I was 19 years old sitting at a kitchen table of a rectory in Illinois, then turning it into an instrumental for an album I did in my cabin in Santa Cruz, and then practicing in the little kitchen in cell 20––and now here I was playing for the pope. As Bede always says, “It’s the little things.”

And by the way, make sure Br Benedict hears this: Matteo told me this morning that the bishop of Naples said to tell the monk who played the guitar that he liked it a lot.

But then we got an unexpected treat, which I cannot adequately describe. The sisters who we have been singing with, of the Congregation known as the Pie Discepole del Divin Maestro––The Pious Disciples of the Divine Master (that’s in the feminine, by the way––not pii discepoli) actually run the souvenir shop and BAR on the roof of St. Peter’s! (I know, right?) So after we were done singing, one of the sisters whisked us right past all the crowds, up an elevator to the first level inside Michelangelo’s dome, walking along the mosaics that line the walls. Looking up there are still more, and I was trying to imagine the amount of work it would take to install them! And then up to the roof of the basilica, at the level of the huge statues of the apostles. It’s very large up there, as you can imagine, and a lot going on! And we went into this long building that houses the bar and gift shop, past the storage room full of icons, rosaries, and papal knickknacks, to a little kitchen that they keep there for themselves and their workers. It was too cute. They pulled out all these treats and made us coffee and served us juices. And then of course, Miriam led us inside the cupola itself and up the long winding “corkscrew” staircase (320 stairs claims the website), in parts with a rope to hang on to, in the space between the inside of the cupola and the shell around it––not for claustrophobics!––to the very top where there is an observation deck with a breathtaking view. We all agreed it was an extraordinary experience. I didn’t have my phone, but I’ll try to get some pictures. 

Once we got back down, we were on our own again, but our Synod badges (and our white habits, probably) gave us the ability to cut all the lines again through the throngs of people in the basilica and easily make our way back to our car. 

Not much else… There is no dinner served here on Friday or Sunday night, so last night Emanule and I went for Vespers at Santa Cecilia’s, which is also a Benedictine monastery and had Vespers with the good ladies there, not knowing that it was the feast of the ritrovamento del corpo di Santa Cecilia––“the re-finding of the body of St. Cecilia” so the good ladies were all in procession and sang their hearts out. Then we found a wonderful little seafood restaurant in Trastevere. My room here at Sant’Antonio is actually only twice as wide as the bed, and only a few feet longer, with a skinny closet and one of these little tiny bathrooms the Italians are famous for with the shower over the toilet to conserve space. But I am enjoying it a lot and getting my treasured afternoon time for silence, reading and writing. And practicing the guitar for the pope. 

We actually have Monday and Tuesday off. I was thinking of taking little side trip to Florence, but I am loving the semi-stability of this time.

Blessings on you all!

---

[1] https://www.avvenire.it/chiesa/pagine/cartolina-dal-sinodo-strumenti-bibbia-preghiera-musica

[2]https://www.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/audiences/2023/documents/20231018-udienza-generale.html.

second week in Rome, the synod in full swing

 13 october 23

Back in Rome. As of today, it’s a month already since I arrived in Italy. Thanks be to God this has been a much more relaxed week than the first three! I didn’t even realize how tired I was until we had a day off on Monday. 

There was one more notable happenstance before I left the Casentino to come down here. Each year the Italian Catholic magazine Il Regno holds a meeting at Camaldoli. This particular magazine was founded by the Congregation of the Priests of the Sacred Heart in 1956 as a source of thought and information about Christian inspired culture. It often deals with political issues and usually invites a prominent figure in church and/or politics. This year the guest was none other than the Vatican’s Secretary of State, Cardinal Pietro Parolin, who was to speak on “Europe as a Horizon of Peace.” I was doing my last conference at Poppi during his actual talk on Sunday, but he was also presiding at Mass and I really wanted to hear him speak, so Sr. Deborah drove me over to Camaldoli when I finished. He did indeed preside but Alessandro offered the homily, so I did not actually get to hear him speak, alas. I was sitting in choir with the other monks, basically right next to the good cardinal and couldn’t help but notice that throughout the liturgy he looked very tired or distant or detached––I couldn’t quite figure out what it was. He obviously would have a lot on his mind with the attack on Israel having just occurred. 

Afterward we had lunch in the refectory of the monastery, with all the monks from the Sacro Eremo in attendance too. The first two tables had been pushed together, covered with a tablecloth, and set up very fancily for the Prior General and the guests of honor, cloth napkins, flowers, etc. I sat way in the back with the young guys from the Eremo. We were supposed to leave for Rome at exactly 1:30 so I had to slip out a little early. As I was trying to sneak by the head table Giuseppe was serving the after-dinner vin santo and he grabbed me by the arm wanting to introduce me to the cardinal––il priore di New Camaldoli nella California. As opposed to his demeanor at Mass he got up and was quite animated, wanted to talk about California and the music for the Synod. I was taken off guard a little. The only thing that threw me was he kept using the formal lei with me which I was supposed to use, of course, for him as well, but I kept slipping and using the tu, unaccustomed as I am. But he did not seem to mind. We Camaldolese are certainly brushing up against the top of the hierarchy these days.

Monday we had the day off so I kind of crawled into my shell and only came out to eat. Actually, that evening I went over to San Gregorio to say hello to the brothers there and have Mass and dinner with them. It’s quite a crowd there now with all the students back for the start of the school year, quite near the largest community in the congregation, and very international. Besides the Italians from Camaldoli, the three young Tanzanians who I met in 2021 are there now, John, Sylvester and Onesforo. I was surprised at how happy they were to see me, or that they remembered me at all. Then there is Adaikalam from India who has now begun his studies in Hebrew and Greek for this specialty in Scripture, and Fabian from Hildesheim. I think they are 13 monks plus three long-term guests––a young man from Spain who works as a tour guide and two other young Italian student, non-monastics––living with them. It was a fun evening seeing them all together.

Aside from that we have fallen into a nice pattern. Fabio from San Gregorio picks us up here at Sant’Antonio at 6:45 AM each day and we whisk (and I mean whisk; I hang on for dear life) through the streets of Rome and inside the Vatican walls, waving our Synod badges (animazione liturgica) past two different sets of security guards, and have a parking place right between the basilica and Paul VI audience hall. There is a surprising amount of activity back there, a real little city––and even there they drive very fast! Matteo meets us and we walk into the sacristy building which is attached to the basilica by a set of staircases and a long hall, through the sacristy itself (actually sacristies: cardinals have a separate one marked off for them), and into the basilica. It is not unusual for there to be several Masses going on or being prepared at the same time. 

Caveat lector: I’m about to write some disappointing things about St. Peter’s Basilica… 

The place really does feel like a giant museum. Not that I have the absolute best antennae for these things, but I get a sense of awe and splendor and might there, but rarely any sense of holiness or recollection. There is one huge statue after the other (and, as I keep pointing out to my younger brothers, not one with even the hint of a smile), one monument to great men after another, blocks and waves of marble everywhere, everything made large to make you feel small, and constant people milling about, custodians ever-present dusting or riding floor buffing machinery, picking up plastic bottles, barriers all over the place forbidding entrance here or there. 

And the liturgies themselves have been very pedestrian, shall we say. First of all, these are supposed to be Masses for the Synod delegates, but very few show up, most days between about 25 and 40, some days a lot less, and we are in the Holy Spirit Chapel which could easily accommodate 500. There is the usual procession of priests, bishops and cardinals who sit a quarter mile away in the presbytery and every day a different cardinal presides (I think they have all been cardinals), sometimes in various languages or a mix of languages. (We’ve had French, English and Spanish besides Italian.) Our friends, four sisters from the congregation of Pie Discepole, are in charge of the music. Sr. Miriam, who also plays the cetra (zither) at the Synod prayers and who I had met when she was living at Poppi two years ago, put it all together in a booklet. I don’t know much of it, but I intuit that it’s stuff that would be used in a parish––or would have been used some time ago. We get there about 7 AM and spend the next half hour deciding what to do. Usually one of us monks sings or improvises the responsorial psalm from the ambo and Emanuele or Fabio play the organ All a little a casaccio for my sensibility. Often when the language is other than Italian there is nothing provided for people to join in so there is little or no response on the part of the assembly. And then all the clergy go processing out to some triumphal piece of organ music. It feels like a weird drama. That being said, some of the homilies have been good, I must say. Cardinal Tagle from the Philippines for instance was really wonderful.

One day, Wednesday, was especially memorable. There was another, obviously more important, Mass going on somewhere else in the basilica and we were told that we could not use the organ until it was done. There was hardly anybody at our Mass anyway. Luckily, I had brought my guitar with me, and we were going to sing Bob Hurd’s “As the Deer Longs.” Well, apparently someone had seen me walk through the sacristy carrying my guitar over my shoulder and sent Matteo to tell me that playing the guitar was not allowed in the basilica. Though it should not be such a big deal, I have rarely felt so offended. I got over it (kind of) and we sang the first half of the Mass acapella, even the ostinato of “As the Deer Longs,” the Italian refrain with English verses over the top. Halfway through the Mass we got a thumbs up that we could use the organ, so we still got to end with a triumphal processional for the little line of priests, bishops, and cardinals. 

There is no word in Italian for “underwhelming.”

The prayers in the synod hall instead have gone well and are much appreciated. Most days it’s just a hymn and three psalms, but Matteo has been asking us to add some other music here and there. Thursday was especially touching: a woman read the gospel in Arabic as the reading and then another woman sang the Taize Nada te Turbe first in Spanish and then in Arabic. I accompanied her on the guitar. This week when all the attention has been focused on outrage, and rightly so, for the Hamas attacks on Israel, there is obviously also grave concern for the innocent people in the Gaza Strip being killed, wounded and displaced by the retaliation. (As I write, Israel has issued its evacuation warning for the north of Gaza, an impossible feat, and everyone is on tinter hooks waiting for the ground invasion which will simply wipe out the entire region.) The Holy Father called the pastor of the parish in Gaza and the patriarch of Jerusalem has tried to be a voice of reason, and we are all praying for the improbable––a measured response on the part of Israel. 

Not that it makes it any worse or better, but often people forget how many Palestinian or just plain Arabic Christians there are. As a matter of fact, I stop often at a little fruttivendolo on my way home from the gym run by a guy from Egypt. There was Arabic chant playing in the background and I said how beautiful it was, assuming it was the Qur’an and it being Friday. He told me it was the Mass! I thought there might be some complaint that too much sympathy was being shown to the Palestinians, but no. I was disappointed to hear that someone complained, not that the Gospel had been read in Arabic but that it had been read by a woman. Sigh.

I have been surprised and touched by how many people are tuning in to the live stream from the States (I don’t know the link) and/or watching each day later on YouTube. That I know you can see via Vatican News. It was the first time we had used the guitar in the audience hall and unfortunately the sound guy did not do a good job of it and it was kind of boomy. Maybe it will be banned there too now…

I don’t think you can watch any of it on EWTN. I ran into a program the other day on YouTube, hosted by Raymond Arroyo, lead anchor for the network and also a Fox News contributor, just trashing the whole Synod in no uncertain terms. He had Cardinal Burke on as one of his guests. At one point one of the guests suggested that it was not a problem to be questioning the pope on this because it is like your mother is being attacked and you have a moral obligation to defend your mother, the Church. Wow.

I spoke with Cardinal O’Malley again the other day. He came over and greeted me. I was delighted he remembered my name. He doesn’t think the Church is under attack. I also got to speak with Fr. James Martin, SJ yesterday. None of them reveal anything of what is actually said in the synod hall, but he did say that the conversations have been very deep and filled with disagreements. I say, “At least they are talking!” Trying to make the Church as pastorally inclusive as possible does seem to me to be a wonderful thing. Let’s ask the questions: “What if?” and “What about?” If we don’t get the answers we wanted, fine, but at least we have talked about it. Mr. Arroyo was complaining that conservatives were not invited. It is simply not true. There are ample conservative (orthodox, traditional) voices among the delegates who are speaking their mind very clearly, and every bishop’s conference got to vote for their representatives. Our American delegation is made up of at least two bishops who are known not to be favorable to Pope Francis. And Bishop Barron is here, and I am told has been very articulate. Bravo for Francis for not being afraid of the conversation.

I just always worry about the people who feel un-invited, not welcome, or indeed pushed out of our churches. Who will feed them? Who will minister to them? Because “they are like sheep without a shepherd.” We can’t always be so self-referential. At times the only thing we can do is go out to them and do whatever we can for them where they are at. “You give them something to eat!” Jesus said. The Holy Father used a great image in his homily opening day. Jesus is always knocking at the door (the image from Revelation), but sometimes he is knocking from the inside, from inside of our churches, wanting to get out and be near the poor, the lost and the lonely.

Enough of my harangue. 

Anyway, after we sing in the morning, we are pretty much free for the day. We make our way through a huge traffic jam back to Sant’Antonio. Emanuele is working on his dissertation up at the library at Sant’Anselmo each day. I have been getting to the gym every day this week and getting lots of time to read and write. I’m also arranging meetings with several people who are here in Rome: my old friend John Wong, OFM, who is the definitor for all of Asia for the order and travels extensively, is stationed here (We went for Indian food, which was quite a culture shock, meeting with my Malaysian friend from Singapore in Rome, eating Indian food); our friend and oblate Nate Bacon is here; Monday I am meeting a young priest from LA who is here studying at the Opus Dei seminary. Sr Maria Cimperman is here, as is Sr. Carol Marie Hemish who I know through the Composers’ Forum. They both want to meet for coffee, and Jim Martin too offered me a tour of the Jesuit Curia (!). I did go up to Sant’Anselmo the other day to see if I could greet Abbot Gregory Polan, an acquaintance and good friend of the community, but he was out of town. It’s fascinating: this time more than ever I feel like Rome really is a meeting place for the world, at least the Catholic one.

Our Federico is studying at PIMS––the Pontificio Instituto di Musica Sacra, and he wanted us to attend a concert there with him on Thursday, which Emanuele and I did. It was really wonderful, a young (27-year-old) Sardinian prodigy. That got us home pretty late that night. And then one last adventure on Friday: As I said, I had met our friend and oblate Nate Bacon the other day for coffee. He is part of the missionary group called Interchange that works with troubled youth. Currently he lives in Guatemala, where his wife is from and where Zacc visited and stayed for a few months in 2020. Nate did a sabbatical year here a few years back and is in Rome again right now translating for another missionary congregation. We had a wonderful visit and conversation and then he was expecting a friend to join him after we met. She showed up while I was still there, and we struck up a stimulating conversation too. Her name is Shaza, she is from Syria and work for the FAO––the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations whose building is within sight of San Gregorio. (As a matter of fact, every now and then the monks host one of their staff as a long-term guest.) She also has an organization here in Rome called “Hummus Town,” which is a catering business that aids Syrian refugees and gives them work. She invited Nate and I to a fund-raising event for Hummus Town last night. It was in a neighborhood somewhere south of here on the terrazza-roof of an apartment building. It was quit interesting. The most prominent language spoken was English but there was some Italian of course and lots of Arabic. The young people (teenagers and younger) all spoke what sounded to me like perfect American-accented English. Being a part of the UN, many of them go to American schools here, and Shaza’s kids all speak all three languages fluently. Nate had to take a Zoom meeting during the dinner and Shaza was busy hosting, so I was rather awkwardly left on my own for a bit of time. But Shaza came to the rescue and ensconced me with a very nice older Italian couple with whom I had a great conversation. I was afraid we were going to have trouble finding a taxi home, but they offered to drive Nate and I all the way back to the Aventino. But that was two late nights in a row still having to drive off to the Vatican at 6:45. So that’s enough excitement for the time being. 

We’re all going to lunch at San Gregorio today and we’ll see what Sunday and next week brings.

Best to all. Tuesday the patriarch of Jerusalem has asked be a day of fasting and prayer for the Holy Land. Let’s join it and never never never lose hope for peace––with justice.

The coro camaldolese in the Holy Spirit Chapel

the opening of the synod on synodality and mad dashes across rome

 Saturday, 7 oct 23

Oh, my goodness. I don’t even know where to begin. What an eventful week it has been! Bro. Emanuele and I traveled down to Rome by train on Sunday afternoon. I do love that train trip, and I have really enjoyed getting to know Emanuele, who speaks decent English (and is fluent in French) but has been a very patient tutor along the way as well as a good travel companion. He and I and Thomas Mazzocco are all staying at Sant’Antonio with our nuns since there was no room for us with the monks at San Gregorio. It’s just as well. We have a little more liberty to come and go and it’s very comfortable. And of course the nuns are always eager to pour out a little TLC. 

I took Monday as a day to myself. Following my instincts, I got up in the cool of the early morning, tucked my holy books in my backpack and headed out on a walk well before sunrise. The smell of coffee and fresh bakery was everywhere but I abstained for a good couple of hours. I walked along the Tiber, through Trastevere and made it all the way to St. Peter’s Square, looking resplendent in the early morning light, and already beginning to fill up with pilgrims cueing for a tour, and the vendors in the various trailers and stalls setting up for the day selling tchotchkes and postcards, food and drinks. I was looking for a nice church to sit in and do my morning readings and meditation but finding one that was either open or quiet proved difficult. I finally stopped at a little restaurant on the Lungo Tevere that wasn’t too crowded (though there was a radio squawking a not quite tuned in correctly to the station in the background) and treated myself to a pot of tea, a fresh squeezed orange juice and a sfoglia (a kind of turnover) with fruit filling. At 14 Euro, I won’t be doing that very often, but it gave me a chance to sit and read and write if not meditate. From there I found my way back up to Santa Sabina on the Aventine near the nuns, one of my few favorite places in Rome. Somewhere I learned that it is the oldest extant church in Rome, 4^th-5^th, century, set up in the oldest basilica style at a time when the church had just taken over that style from the empire (Empire!), with the “choir” in the middle. It’s very plain inside, unusual for Rome, though indications were that at one time it was covered with mosaics. 

After a brief stop at home, I headed back out and took care of a bunch of errands I needed to accomplish to set myself up for the month I will be spending there, including getting a pass for the metropolitano, re-finding the gym I used during my sabbatical, and picking up supplies. Believe it or not I found almost everything I needed at Roma Termini––oat milk, honey, a new plug for my phone, my favorite magazine (Internazionale), and even glue for my fake fingernail (for playing the guitar) at a profumeria. That evening we ate with the nuns, and Thomas arrived from California, a wonderful reunion.

Tuesday there was not much to do except that the three of us, with the addition of Bro. Fabio, who is living and studying at San Gregorio, had a rehearsal of our music for the next day. After a few weeks of feeling a little inadequate at Italian it was kind of a relief to be singing a few things in English and listen to them struggle a little with the pronunciation, though they do pretty well. The “th” is impossible for Italians, and how do you explain the difference between “breath” and “breathe”?! They totally impressed me with their knowledge of the old hymn “Abide With Me” which they sang for me in three-part harmony.

We were all quite nervous-excited about the next day, and decided to meet for breakfast at 6 AM and leave for the Vatican at 6:30. Since there were four of us we decided to splurge on a taxi just this once, since we knew that traffic was going to be impossible and Matteo wanted us there promptly at 7:30. All gussied up in our dress whites and ready to go, we got to the Via della Conciliazione by 7 and we were glad we did because getting inside the inner circle proved a little harder than we thought. Matteo was already inside and kept sending us text messages, but the guards were stalwart in spite of our badges that read “animazione liturgica” with our not-very-flattering photos. By this time we were joined by another of our confreres, Fabian, a young monk from Hildesheim who has just returned to Rome for another year of study. He somehow slipped through the barrier and was taunting us with his complacency from the other side. We finally made it in after walking all the way around the back of the basilica and entering near the Holy Office, where we met Matteo who promptly ushered us into the grand hall that leads to la Scala Reale, the royal staircase that I was told goes to the papal apartments.

At the upper part of the hall were laid out table after table with stoles and chasubles for the priests, bishops and maybe a cardinal or two who were vesting for Mass. At the bottom of the hall were all of the delegates who were not vesting for Mass, which included of course lay people, women and non-Catholics. There was a lot of hubbub and a lot of people greeting each other, and a few well-known faces. My Italian brothers knew a lot of the people there, professors from France or Germany. Thomas’ new rector of JST in Berkeley was there. I kept looking for the Americans and I finally spotted one, Sr. Maria Cimperman, CSJ, who had given our retreat last year and was chosen as a facilitator for the Synod. She was delighted to see me and meet the brothers. Such a spark of optimism and joy! We were there for a good hour and then suddenly the summons came, and we were led in procession by about a dozen Franciscan acolytes and cross and candle bearers (it being the feast of St. Francis) out into St. Peter’s Square, where there was a huge crowd gathered, then down the main aisle and up onto the raised areas around the altar.

And suddenly the Holy Father appeared, pushed up a ramp on the far side in his wheelchair, and the Mass began. I must say, when the pope said the presidential prayers I noticed right away how weak and tired his voice sounded. But when he began to preach it took on life and energy. “The welcoming gaze of Jesus invites us too to be a hospitable Church, not with the doors closed. … The Church must be ‘an easy yoke’ that doesn’t impose weights and that repeats to everyone, ‘Come you who are tired and oppressed, come you who have lost the way or feel yourself far away, come you who have closed the door to hope.”’ He was referencing the gospel of the day, again in honor of St. Francis, Mt 11:25-30. “The Church is for you,” he said. “The Church with doors open to everyone, everyone, everyone.” That was the highlight, when he repeated that three times: a tutti, tutti, tutti, everyone, everyone, everyone.

I was surprised by how quickly the Mass went. At the end someone wheeled Pope Francis to the front of the cement platform and the crowd went wild with applause. I still get goosebumps remembering that. Afterward the crowd of us on the platform just kind of broke up rather unceremoniously.

We had some time to kill, so Fabian led us to the German seminary (and ancient fabled German cemetery) right there on the Vatican grounds, within sight of the walls of the basilica, a place that Pope Benedict like to slip over to every now and then. Fabian had a friend-schoolmate there, one Lennart Luhmann, a Protestant chap working on his doctorate at San Anselmo.  Lennart treated us to cold drinks, coffee and fruit. He spoke Italian hesitatingly, so it was an interesting conversation, switching back and forth between German, English and Italian, something not at all uncommon at the Vatican I came to find out. We then headed over to the other side of the Vatican again where Matteo was lodging and waiting for us.

I should say a word about Matteo. He’s a monk of Camaldoli, the guestmaster, as a matter of fact. He’s also a friend of Mario Grech, the Maltese cardinal who used to be the Pro-Secretary General of the Synod of Bishops and then became the Secretary General of this Synod. Cardinal Grech asked Matteo to plan and guide all the liturgies for the Synod. It was he who recruited me to supply the English psalms and hymns, and the rest of us to come and sing each day, as well as recruiting the sisters of the Congregation of Pie Discepoli to animate the music for Eucharist each day (which we may or may not help with) at St. Peter’s in the Holy Spirit chapel behind the main altar. Matteo seems to know everybody and be doing everything, including helping the pope find the right page in his book and acting as MC for almost everything, quietly behind the scenes, running here and there. 

Matteo was staying at the Domus Romana Sacerdotalis (you can look it up online) just a block or so away from the Vatican itself. He had made reservations for all of us for pranzo that day, and that was a fascinating experience. In the foyer, in the sala da pranzo itself, swarming with priests, bishops, cardinals, all in a very relaxed state. (I did see one Sister, most likely a lunch guest.) While at the lunch we got approached a number of times, as we did on the street, by people asking us what order we were, not recognizing the habit. (The cincture on the outside throws everyone off.) Some thought we were canons regular. A very friendly German-speaking man approached and wanted to talk and talk with me. I found out he was a Franciscan from Austria and knows David Steindl-Rast very well. Another theologian, a Fr. Giles from Ottawa Canada asked to sit with us since we had a space open at the table. They both spoke fine English but kept switching back to Italian, which I found interesting. Fr. Giles is in Rome as a theological consultant and had some very interesting insights into the intellectual background of the Synod. He also knows Bishop Barron quite well, having lived with him in Paris when they were both students there. We had not yet caught sight of Barron, though he was there in Rome somewhere.

Then we headed over to the Paul VI audience hall for our major contribution of the day, the real opening event of the Synod. We had a good long time to wait yet, and had all the usual problems with sound technicians and placement, etc. I walked around looking at all the names at the tables set up throughout the hall, which were on little computer tablets pads attached to a bank of headphones, I assume for instant translation. 

But the surprising thing was that about a half an hour before we began, when there was hardly anyone in the hall, suddenly the pope got wheeled in and was being pushed around the hall, as if he was checking on all the preparations and greeting all the organizers. Of course, a line formed to greet him. I would have left him to his peace but the others wanted to greet him and so we did. He didn’t seem overimpressed with us, but at least I can say I have shaken his hand twice now.

Then came the opening prayer, which we led musically––the Veni Creator Spiritus, “Let the Word Make a Home in Your Heart” to introduce a liturgy of the Word, a psalm in Italian between the readings, and a closing hymn. There was some trouble with the microphones at first (there is no acoustic whatsoever in that hall), so the first verse of “Let the Word” was a little muffled, but it picked up after that, and it was very moving to sing it and to hear it being sung back by the Holy Father and the rest of the assembly.

The other guys left after the service, but Emanuele and I stayed on because Matteo wanted Emanuele to play the organ for the closing Marian antiphon. That was the only time we will be allowed into the assembly after we sing, and we heard them begin their work. They were addressed first by the Holy Father himself. He was sitting at the head table with five others. He had three quotes from Maximus the Confessor printed up and had had them passed out to everyone. Other than that, he certainly seemed to be speaking without notes, very spontaneously, about what he hoped for from this synod. We then heard from Cardinal Grech, then from another rather jolly German Jesuit bishop, giving some marching orders. The latter mentioned the elephant in the room when he said that the bishops who had not taken part in the synodal process thus far in their own dioceses (and there were undoubtably a few in the room) might have a hard time with the process in the next days, the process of listening with open minds and hearts, without preconceived responses. We then heard from a Polish bishop about his experience with the synodal process in his diocese, and then, interestingly enough, from an Indian lay man, a catechist, I believe, from the small community of Catholics in the United Arab Emirates. What a unique voice to hear!

There was a break between the opening prayer and the general assembly, during which time I met several people, including our Austrian Franciscan friend again. That’s when I discovered he was actually the archbishop of Salzburg. I also took the liberty of introducing myself to Cardinal Wilton Gregory with the excuse being that we know people in common, our Br. Hugh, OCSO, and Sr. Barbara Long, OP, about both of whom he was delighted to hear. (Sr. Barbara had been his seventh and eighth grade teacher.) I was walking back from the bathroom at one point right behind Cardinal Sean O’Malley, who I admire greatly, and I took the liberty of speaking to him too. I wasn’t sure how to call out to him, so I just said, “Fr. Sean!” And he turned around and we had a really nice conversation. He’s taller than I thought, and he has very intense kindly eyes with which he is not afraid to hold your gaze in the silence. He was in his cardinal-red finery that day, but he showed up the next morning back in his Franciscan habit.

What else can I tell you? After the event broke up for the night, Emanuele and I made a mad dash across the piazza to the Metro station at Ottaviani a few blocks away to catch the train home. Running through the streets of Rome and riding on the super-crowded subway in full white habit may not be the most unusual sight there, but it was kind of madcap funny anyway. The nuns had put something aside for us for dinner and then it was time to pack up and get ready for the next day. All in all, though I was soaked in sweat and pretty tired, it had been a glorious day and I feel so honored to have been a part of it.

The next day, Thursday, the four of us packed into a car this time and assisted as we could at the early Mass in the Holy Spirit Chapel at St. Peter’s. Kind of an underwhelming affair, not many were there, a long line of bishops and cardinals far far away from the assembly in the presbytery, music from another Mass resounding through the cavernous building. Matteo again had led us through to a parking place right by Paul VI hall and then through the labyrinthine halls of the sacristy building and out into the church itself. (He told us he had been there in the basilica early that morning all by himself! That must have been an interesting experience.) And then we led the first of many morning prayers to come (actually Terce) back in the audience hall. Everyone was a lot more dressed down now, even the bishops and cardinals in plain clerics instead of the purple and red. Thomas acted as spokesperson, explaining to the assembly how we would sing, and then we sang, my hymn “O Breathe on Me O Breath of God” from “Lord Open My Lips,” then two psalms in Italian and another in English. I must say, it’s a pretty moving experience to have one’s own music there in the heart of the church sung by these representatives from all over the world.

After that another mad dash to Roma Termini to catch a train since Emanuele and I were heading back up north to Arezzo, then he to Camaldoli and I to Poppi where I am currently giving a retreat at our nuns’ monastery. I can write something about that later. I have some more notes about Wednesday, but I left them back in Rome. Maybe I’ll add something more later. For now, I’ll post this and I’m off to give a conference. Tomorrow we head back to Rome.

Every blessing from the Casentino, where the view out of every window looks like a painting.

the visitation ends

 Saturday, 30 september 23, St Jerome

After the morning of finance meetings, we had a lighter afternoon. Alessandro wanted to show us the azienda agricola(basically “the farm”––laborotorio (the laboratory where the cremes and cosmetics are made, la cantina antica e nuova(the new and old cellar), le case coloniche (the houses that Camaldoli owns) and the Mausolea (there is no translation for that word that I can find, but it is not a mausoleum). The last first.

 

It’s got a complicated history. Originally it was called the musoleo. Somewhere along the line it became feminine, la musolea, and then morphed into its current named. I read all about it in the collection of don Ugo’s historical essays a few years back. It is basically a large villa about five miles from Camaldoli. Though the lands around seem to have been given to the monks as early as the end of the 11^th century, I believe the first iteration of the villa itself was built in the 13^thcentury, mainly as a place to house the folks who did all the farm work, and took care of the vineyards and the laboratory for the Farmacia. The current version only comes from the 15^th century (!), built by the famous prior general Pietro Delfini, a humanist who wanted the monks (the cenobites at least) to be involved in rigorous manual labor on the land. At one time the Prior General actually lived there, back when such ecclesial positions were high in society. At another point during the suppression in the late 19^th century under the Savoy government some monks lived there as well until the hermitage and monastery were re-opened in the 1930s. A few monks continued to live there until late in the 20^th century, including the noted scholar and liturgist Cipriano Vagaggini. 

 

The last group to use it was called La Grande Via, led by a well-known Dr. Franco Berino and Enrica Bortolazzi. The aim of their program was to “encourage health, wellbeing and longevity, prevent chronic illnesses and early aging and help re-establish a state of health in people hit by chronic illnesses associated with incorrect lifestyles.” (Rough translation from their website.) I visited them once and was quite impressed with their work. They have been gone for about a year and now the place is empty, and Alessandro is hoping to do something new with it, a retreat center or agroturismo of some sort. It’s a marvelous place, very large inside. It has got two huge spaces which were used for yoga and meditation in its last iteration, more than twenty rooms for sleeping, several conference halls, an industrial sized kitchen and a refectory, two little chapels, etc., etc. 

 

Then we saw the antica cantina, the old wine cellar full of centuries-old wine barrels, now empty, that seemed to go on and on. (I, of course, was on the lookout for my old enemy, i pipistrelli–the bats, which I was warned might be there. They thought it was rather silly that I am terrified of bats.) We then saw the la nuova cantina which is not a cellar at all but a handsome sturdy metal building where the wines are made. Mario was particularly excited since he seems to know wines pretty well. He got very enthused when we got to the spumante. (He might have been waiting for a free sample, but none was offered, alas.) I was entertained to find that they sell wine in a box now and on the package it says, in English, “wine in a box” which seemed somewhat disappointing compared to the normal florid Tuscan lexicon. 

 

We had been led on this whole tour by a young man named Lucca who has charge of the entire scope of the azienda agricola, and he was in the meantime pointing out the lands around us that are part of Camaldoli still, in the place mostly vineyards. Then we got in cars, crossed the road and drove up a long unpaved road to see the stalls where all the cows are kept. (To my vegetarian ahimsa horror, we raise young calves specifically for vitello–veal, which I think is heinous, but I held my tongue.) And then on up the road to visit all the houses that we own, in greater or lesser states of repair. All the way up the long road Alessandro kept saying, “This is our land” and “These are our fields” and “Those over there are our houses.” It’s quite a lot to manage and of course in these times of economic hardship for the congregation he is very intent on making the best use of it all. Some of the houses have had or have semi-permanent occupants. 

 

One of the apartments is now inhabited by an elderly Brazilian woman, Elena, who I had met two years ago at Poppi, where she was living with the nuns at the time. Now she is on her hermit own, living next to a little chapel dedicated to San Martino that she maintains and where she also does her handwork of creating weavings on a loom.

 

On the way back, Alessandro asked if we wanted some gelato. I hope I didn’t answer too quickly. It was just the treat I needed after a long day, in the little town of Soci.

 

Sunday, 1 oct 23

 

Wednesday and Thursday were somewhat uneventful. We had personal meetings in the mornings and group meeting with the brothers from the Eremo in the afternoon. By now I was finally over my jetlag (!) and had established a pretty good routine. Just like at home, I skipped colazione with the brothers, and headed out for a run or walk right after morning prayer. We were delighted that so many brothers came for personal meetings. For various reasons we thought that here at the monastery there would not have been so many. 

 

By then we had also already begun to write up our reports. The ones for the initial visits at the separate communities I had done a good draft and then Mario would lavare i miei panni–“wash my clothes,” a Florentine euphemism for cleaning up your Italian and we would add together other thoughts. I must say I was, and Mario as well, very careful with every word, particularly not in my own native tongue. I always think that setting just the right tone is so important. I kept thinking of the line from the letter to the Ephesians: speaking the truth with love. If it isn’t true, it’s not really loving. But at the same time, if it isn’t loving, it ain’t really true. And the other image I kept offering Mario was of a mirror. I felt like our job is simply to hold a mirror up to the community, with no judgement. And if possible, any recommendations would come from themselves. There were some difficult things that brothers wanted said and I think we addressed them appropriately. But I was nervous.

 

And then there was an additional report to write up for the two places together. The brothers here do not like to refer to the “two communities” or even “the communities” of Camaldoli. They prefer (or at least some of them do) to refer to themselves as one community in two places. That is pretty hard to convey. Mario had a really fine idea for that one drawn from his background in ecology and forestry studies and asked if he could start writing the draft for that one, which I was only too happy to concede. (Normally, it’s the first visitator who writes the reports.) 

 

I was a little nervous presenting the relazione to the brothers at the monastery since there was a little contention up at the Eremo, and we had some even harder things to address down there, and some other suggestions that I knew might not go over well. I read it out to the assembled brothers Friday afternoon and my nervousness almost got the better of me. I was tripping over words and got kind of slavishly attached to the written text. At one point someone corrected my pronunciation of a word––in mid-sentence!––which I had not actually mispronounced, and that threw me off a little more, but I recovered and brought it in for a landing. To my relief it was received very well, and we had a nice discussion. There had been a long pause and I said that if there was nothing else to say we could go. But Alessandro said, “Aspetta un attimo. Ci vuole un po tempo per gli italiani––Wait a minute. It takes a little time for the Italians.” And Mario said “Il fuoco Italiano è lento ad accendersi ma lungo a bruciare––Italian fire is slow to light but it burns long.”

 

Alessandro had offered to take us out to dinner again Thursday or Friday night, but we had to sadly but wisely refuse. We wound up spending a good deal of time after dinner (from about 8:00 PM on, not at all my best time in any country) working on both reports but especially the last one for the combined monks. Mario did a wonderful job with the draft, very poetic. We went through and worked on the practical things together, suggestions and recommendations. Only once all week did we say, “We strongly urge the community to…” and refer to it as “urgent and necessary.” 

 

I don’t think it is any breach of protocol to share with you Mario’s introduction. I spent many hours hiking through and marveling at this amazing forest of fir trees these past two weeks, so this especially resonated with me.

 

During the visit to the Hermitage and the Monastery of Camaldoli, several brothers compared the community to a centuries-old plant in which lifeblood flows. This reference demonstrates the close bond that still exists between the monks of Camaldoli and the forest in which they live. The relationship between the monks and the forest is an integral part of the Camaldolese-Romualdine experience. Saint Romualdo himself chose the dense forest as a privileged and favorable place for contemplation and prayer. His successors codified the methods of interaction between the monks and the forest which gives them hospitality, protection and means of subsistence, into their constitutions and rules of life. The monks contemplated the soaring white fir trunks which invite us to raise our gaze and praise towards the sky. For this reason, they begin to plant more and more fir trees. They made it a pure, homogeneous forest, without other tree species.

 

That fir forest has survived to this day. But the pure cultivation of silver fir does not renew itself naturally, because the plants are too dense and there is not enough light for other plants to grow. The renewal of the forest requires care and work and necessarily involves the clear cutting of a part of the forest and the planting of new plants. This is why today the management of the forest by the relevant parties is changing. Not it’s a matter of encouraging the possibility for other tree species (beeches, maples, hornbeams, oaks) to put down roots and grow together with the silver firs. The greater biodiversity allows each of the species, including the fir, to be reborn naturally through the seeds that fall to the ground. Different plants create a richer and more vital ecosystem that favors the renewal of all species, even if at the expense of the concept of purity, that is, of a certain order and geometric perfection of the forest and individual plants.

 

There’s the magic phrase that somehow ties in also with the upcoming Synod on Synodality: “a richer and more vital ecosystem that favors the renewal of all species, even if at the expense of the concept of purity.” And then we ended with this paragraph which I thought was very strong, tying into both the Synod and the theme for our upcoming Chapter––“Being Present to the Presence in the Present.”

 

The richness of our Congregation consists in its diversity and flexibility, which gives us a certain availability to the Spirit, and allows us to respect each person with their needs and their personal journey. This diversity is to be appreciated and celebrated. There is always the danger of absolutizing one’s way of living Camaldolese monasticism. There are different ways of being a monk, a Camaldolese: hermit, cenobite, missionary... However, what unites us, like the roots of plants intertwined in the humus of our forest––our tradition, the liturgy and Lectio Divina, the silence and sobriety of the cell, and above all the search for God––is greater than what differentiates us from one another. If a brother lives the Camaldolese charism in a different way from mine, that should not be perceived as a threat, but as an opportunity to exercise magnanimity, in the unity of the personal and communal vocation of our three-fold good. The world around us, as well as the Church, needs to learn this synodal attitude, this way of being “present”: celebrating, embracing and encouraging diversity. We Camaldolese monks are a model of this, and we wish to continue to be more and more.

 

This time I was patient waiting for the Italian fire to light and it burned very nicely without any argumentation for a good hour. Several of the brothers expressed their appreciation for the hard work we had done and for both the tone we had set and the mirror we had held up. We had a wonderful meal with everybody and then––Whew!––what a sense of relief!

 

I had a little more to do yet last night––both teach my month Zoom session and take part in another Zoom conference for our friend Douglas Christie from LMU, but that was kind of fun after all that other work. And fun to do it form here. Thanks God my cell has really good intenet. And it was nice to see familiar friendly faces on the former, and Bede as well as Paula Huston and Elbina on the latter––and speak in English! The only downside was that I had to miss pizza night…

 

Today several have left already for Rome so morning prayer was somewhat more muted than usual. I got in my last morning run and treated myself to some schiacciata at the schiacciateria across the street. Schiacciata is a specialty in this region, kind of like a think pizza dough or a smashed (schiacciare actually means “to smash”) focaccia with various toppings. I had a big piece filled with chocolate. (Hey, I earned it!) I can hear the Sunday crowds, tourists and pilgrims, right outside my window as I type, a really lovely sound. 

 

After Mass and pranzo, Bro. Emanuele and I will take the train down to Rome, where we will eventually meet the other brothers and begin our preparations for the Synod. Thomas Mazzocco arrives tomorrow from Berkeley. It will be so good to see him. But first… I learned another new word––letargo: I am going to go into hibernation–letargo for a couple of days.

 

Ciao for now…