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!
