In the Details

We were without internet access for a while so it has been a few days since I have been able to post anything.  While we have visited several beautiful places, including Venice, since the last posting, I want to share some observations in a different vein.

We are winding down our Italian adventure, so we have been finalizing souvenir purchases for our family and friends.  At this point, I believe we have everyone covered and plan to get some last t-shirts for the kids and we are done.  But what I have noticed when we have made purchases is how nicely purchases are wrapped for customers.  In a toy store where we bought a gift for a neighbor, the clerk wrapped it in nice gift paper, then added a bow and string.  It took several minutes to do this, but she worked carefully to make a very beautiful gift.

At a jewelry store, while we waited for help, the clerk very carefully wrapped several gifts that someone else had purchased.  Even though he was the only clerk in the store, he didn't rush, but took his time and wrapped each purchase with paper, bows, strings, stickers.  A similar purchase in most American stores might result in a gift that was put into a decorative bag at best.  Although it meant waiting a bit longer for the clerk to be able to wait on us, it was very nice to see the attention he was giving this particular purchase and well worth the wait.

In the hectic rush of this season, it was nice to experience a situation where there was more than an exchange of money and a bagged item and a few "have a nice holiday" pleasantries.  The Italians seem to give a lot of attention to the details and making sure that things are well done.  It shows in their fashion where it is common for everyone to dress nicely in public.  I have yet to see anyone walking around in their pajamas (a seemingly common fashion statement in the U.S.---and by the way, what is the statement we are saying in this?)  Italians seem to take great care in the details of appearances.  And this attention to detail is very refreshing.

An Advent Song

It has been fun to be in Italy during Advent.  We have watched the lighting of Advent candles in the local churches, just like at Roberts Park.  And we have seen the decorations adorning this already beautiful city of Florence.  Many of the streets have white lights hanging down like a cascade of snowflakes.  The store windows are decorated in preparation for Christmas and one store nearby has a mailbox where children can put their letters to Bobi Feste (I am guessing this is the same celebrity who goes by Santa Claus in the U.S.)

We were fortunate our first night in Florence to be walking toward the city square.  As we approached, I heard music, so we hurried our pace to see what was going on.  There were men dressed in what seemed like renaissance costumes playing instruments and doing a routine with flags.  It was a parade that had come to stop in the city square.  There were lots of people there and we joined to watch the festivities.  The culmination was the lighting of a large fir tree in the middle of the square.

Yesterday morning we walked to the top of the tower alongside the church.  It affords a beautiful view of the city of Florence and some of the surrounding Tuscan countryside.  Maybe it was the 414 steps leading to the top of the tower or maybe it was the view, but the word breath-taking comes to mind.  We caught our breath and took in the sights from every direction.                                                                                       




The view from the Church tower

 From atop the city, I could hear the sounds below.  I could make out the sounds of a saw and construction work being done.  There was the sound of an ambulance (very distinctive here!).  But after listening closely, I heard another sound.  It was the sound of a child singing.  I could not pinpoint where it was coming from, but it was very distinct.  From hundreds of feet above the city, the sound of a child singing was clearly heard.  It brought a smile to my face to hear such sweet music rising from the earth below. 

Isn't this what Advent is about.  Amid all the chaos and noise there is a faint sound that echoes above our cities.  It is the sound of singing...a child's song, Mary's song, angels' songs, a reminder that we all have a song to share.

Peace my friends!

The foods of Italy

Ok, I have been promising a blog about the food we have been eating, so I think it is time.  One of the things I enjoy about Diane is that while we have similar adventurous palates, we often order the two things that sound the best on the menu and share them.  So, especially when we travel, we get twice the tasting opportunities.

One of the things we have done in every location is ask the locals where they would recommend.  We have yet to be disappointed with a single recommendation.  In Pompei, our innkeeper recommended a place called Kobe that had some of the most incredible steaks!  Tasty, juicy and plentiful.  And, we also enjoyed a nutella dessert. 

We also took their advice and stopped at Zi Catherinas for lunch one day.  There we both ordered a pizza...Diane got anchovies and I got a spicy sausage.  Because the pizzas were so inexpensive we thought they would be like a personal size pizza in the U.S.  These things were huge!  And the thing was, even the locals order them like a personal pizza and sit and eat the whole thing!  It was a lot of pizza. 

On the day when we were walking through Naples, we had no recommendations so we wandered into a back alley.  The owner practically pulled us into his restaurant.  While we were looking over the handwritten menu almost illegible and with no prices or explanations, I decided I wanted spaghetti, but not the seafood with mussels version.  Turns out there were not a lot of options.  Before we ordered anything the owner brought us a vegetable plate for an appetizer.  Then he asked whether we wanted spaghetti or meat.  We both ordered the spaghetti.  The result was that we got the spaghetti with mussels.  And it was incredible.  Not a big meal, but very tasty and very filling.  We were ready to leave when he brought dessert (which we had not ordered)...a tiramisu.  Again thinking we are done, he brought us the famous limoncello (a lemon alcohol drink served in an iced shot glass).  I think Diane is trying to figure out how to bring some of this back to the states!  But all of this was incredibly filling and cost next to nothing.

In Rome we stumbled onto a restaurant outside the town near the catacombs.  This has been one of Diane's favorite meals.  She had gnocchi  with calamari while I had a spinach ravioli.  The pastas have all been incredible.

Last evening, here in Florence, our innkeeper recommended a place nearby famous for their pastas and steaks.  I was considering getting the pasta with truffles when Diane suggested the famous Steak Florentine.  It was for two or more.  We decided on this.  We ordered an appetizer of a soft cheese served with marmalade, honey, pine nuts and grape fruit.  I could have made a meal out of this!  Then the owner sent a complimentary selection of appetizers to us.  There was so much food and it was so good! 

Steak Florentine is served rare.  If you ask for it cooked more thoroughly they will not serve it to you.  It is seared on each side and then warmed on the inside.  It is kind of like a t-bone.  But the serving was humongous (I'm running out of adjectives!) and was at least three inches thick.  It was tender and flavorful.  And it was to die for.  The meal was so plentiful that we were both suffed...so much so that we couldn't even imagine sharing a dessert.  We had to go for a long walk afterward to try to work off some of the meal.

Tonight we took a cooking class on Tuscan foods.  We began by making a brocolli souffle, followed by gnocchi which we had made ourselves served with a fresh tomato sauce.  Then we had chicken sauteed with peppers, onions and rosemary.  Dessert was tiramisu.  The only thing that came out of a can or bottle was the wine served with the dinner.

Part of the fun was having the hands on experience and working with other tourists and the local chefs.  We were paired with a couple from Los Angeles who were on a three month sabbatical.  We enjoyed the meal, but also working with others and sitting down and sharing the fruits of our labors.

The foods and desserts have been incredible.  The wines have been delightful (and typically cheaper than a bottled water!)  Diane enjoyed the limoncello while I enjoyed the grappa (another post dinner alcoholic beverage).  As a coffee drinker, Diane has enjoyed the little coffee bars for an espresso which are served in a porcelain cup.  While we would think of getting food and drinks to go, it seems expected that meals and even snacks are times to slow down and converse or watch others. 

We have also enjoyed sampling the various flavors of gelatto.  At one little grocery in Pompei Diane ordered  a chocolate that was incredibly rich.  I was looking at the many options when the lady behind the counter seemed to take a liking to me.  She offered me samples of one of them and then suggested that I might like it with alongside another flavor.  Diane has had the affections and flirtations of many Italian men (including one little boy who looked to be about 5 who blew her a kiss as he walked by), but this was my turn.  If you happen upon the gelatto lady in Pompei tell her I said hi.

Unfortunately, we didn't take photos of the foods we have eaten, but even if we had, I don't think it could do justice to the smells and tastes we have experienced.   

Peace my friends! 

Beauty All Around Us

One thing I don't always understand is why some things and some people are well known and others not.  Maybe it is my own mixed up priorities, but sometimes the things I value are not as highly regarded.  For instance, when it comes to picking a pope...not that I have anything against the current pope, but when the position next comes available, I would pick someone like Father Antonio from the monastery in Albuquerque.  He probably wouldn't be interested in the position, but he was a very kind, loving man who would be a pleasant and memorable pope, but his name is not likely to be chosen for the position.

Or how about music?  I realize that some of my favorite musicians are not likely to be heard on the radio.  But their music is the kind that touches the heart and makes your toes tap and your feet begin to move.  Michael Kelsey, Bill Price, Madeline Peyroux and Tim Vana are not likely to be heard on your radio, but I think they are fine writers and musicians.  I listened to a cd by Tim Vana on the train today from Naples to Florence and absolutely enjoyed it.  His song about the life of a farmer should make him worthy of being on stage at a FarmAid concert.

Or how about art.  When we walked through the Museum of Modern Art in New York I asked Diane, who was an art teacher for a while and knows something about this stuff, why some of these works were classified as art.  I mean really, an all red canvas is art?  Or the hodgepodge paintings that look like someone randomly threw paint onto a canvas.  I guess to someone it was considered a masterpiece, but I can't help thinking that if I gave a few gallons of paint to my kids, let them wear one of my oversized shirts and turned them loose on a blank canvas, they could produce the same results.  Yesterday we walked through Naples.  Not a particularly pleasant city.  But we had heard about a sculpture called the veiled Jesus.  It isn't in a lot of the tour books that we consulted.  It is not well marked and it is in a rather nondescript looking building from the outside.  But this sculpture is remarkable.  It looks like the body of Christ covered with a paper thin veil.  The details were incredible.  We have seen lots of sculptures by very famous artists, and they have been very good.  But this one was moving.  When we asked directions to a nearby church, a man on the street said we needed to visit this chapel to see the sculpture and then he made a gesture signifying that it would bring tears to one's eyes.  Indeed it did.  It is not as well known, but a very moving piece of art.

So what's my point (and does a blog really have to have a point)?  I guess what I feel in my heart is that some art hangs in museums and some musicians fill large arenas and some people are recognized by multitudes of people.  But there is incredible art, music and people to be found in the less familiar settings.  And they are worthy of our attention.  It may take a little more effort but if we keep our senses attuned, we might find beauty in unexpected places

A Pilgrimage

Early in our relationship, I remember Diane mentioning Padre Pio as someone she found very inspiring.  Padre Pio was a priest who served in a small mountainous town in eastern Italy.  One of the distinguishing features of this man is that he had the marks of the stigmata, the visible wounds of a crucifixion on his hands, feet and sides.  The public pictures of him typically show him wearing gloves.  Padre Pio died in that small town of San Giovani Rotondo in 1968 and was made a saint in the Catholic Church.

Having seen all there is to see in Pompei, I asked Diane if she would like to make the trip to San Giovani Rotondo.  It is the second largest pilgrimage site in the world.  We did some research and found that there were buses from Naples.  The downside was that the trip was 3 hours each way and allowed visitors only one hour at the site.  The innkeeper where we are staying suggested renting a car and driving ourselves.  Given what I have seen of Italian roads and drivers, this had me a bit concerned, but it seemed the best option.  The innkeepers let us borrow their Tomtom gps (which we nicknamed TimTom after the Reverend on the tv show "The Middle").  TimTom did a great job getting us through the small towns and onto the highway.  The only problem was in the mountains where TimTom got a bit confused.  On a hairpin turn that went left, he would say, "Turn right here."  Maybe TimTom didn't like me, who knows.  But in the mountain we muted TimTom and made our own route.

San Giovani Rotondo  is set on a mountainside and is a beautiful city.  We found a parking spot near the church and began our tour.  There are three churches...the old one, the updated one and the modern one.  We began in the updated one which led to the museum devoted to Padre Pio.  The museum was filled with stories of his life and ministry and was a very nice tribute to the man.  In the basement of the church, there is the crypt where the priest's body was buried until 2008.  There were many tributes, with people leaving coins, letters, photos, etc. 

At the end of the tour, Diane asked where the body was now.  Unfortunately, their English was as poor as our Italian.  We were directed to one area, but this did not work.  We found a very helpful priest who told us to go to the modern church.  It was a little distance away (and it was raining), but this was important to Diane and we were now on a quest.  We walked into the new building, a vast expansive church searching for the body of Padre Pio.  It was very frustrating and we were having no luck.  We had looked everywhere and we had come a long way.  Diane sat down on the stairs in frustration with her hands on her head looking like she was going to cry.

At that moment, I felt like an observer to Easter morning.  Remember the story of Mary going to the tomb?  She is looking for the body and she cannot find it.  She is grieving and sad.  At that moment, I felt like a witness to Mary's grief.  I looked some more.  We finally found someone and pointed to the picture of Padre Pio's tomb and I asked, "Dov'e?"  "Where?" in Italian.  We were not far.

We walked a little further and came into this incredible gold sanctuary.  There was a priest conducting mass in the room so we joined the service.  Diane noted later that the priest looked to be the age that he might have known Padre Pio.  That made the service that much more special.  When the mass concluded, the particpants joined in a procession to where Padre Pio's body is entombed. 

The tours would have permitted us to stay for one hour.  We were at San Giovani Roounda for about three hours. 

TimTom led us back toward Pompei before delivering us to an unknown location and declaring, "You have reached your destination."  How we got back to the Bed and Breakfast I don't know.  It was dark and it was late when we pulled into the gated inn.  It was an exhausting day and the stress of navigating the unknown territory was a challenge.  But our pilgrimage brought us great joy to visit this holy site.

Sunset over Rome

It is hard to believe that a week has passed.  But we feel that we have seen most of the major sites of Rome.  For our final full day in Rome, we ran some errands and then caught the Metro downtown.  We walked to a castle built by the Emperor Hadrian.  After it was abandoned and fell into disrepair, the church took it over and it became a residence for the pope.

This imposing structure is situated downtown in Rome, alongside the Tiber River.  We walked through the castle admiring its many decorative rooms.  There were some that had been restored to their former beauty.  Others were now serving as locations for traveling historical displays.  In one such room, we learned about the Italian patriot, Garibaldi and his family.

As we continued toward the top, it occurred to us that we had picked the ideal time to visit the castle.  It was late afternoon.  The sun was beginning to set and the view from the top was magnificient.  We watched the sun set and the lights of the city illuminate.  It was wonderful.

Beside is a view of St. Peter's Basilica from the top of the castle.  You can see that the sun is going down and the sky is taking on a soft pink and purple tinge. 

To the right is a picture of the landscape of Rome.  The main structure in the back is a building that was constructed to commemorate the 50th anniversary of Italian reunification and liberation.  Next year, 2011 will be the 150th year and celebrations have been planned to mark the occasion.

The view from the castle was the perfect way to end our week in Rome.  It was beautiful and romantic, like much of the city.  After we left the castle, we strolled alongside the Tiber River looking at the vendor stands.  As we crossed the river at one of the bridges we shot this photograph, once again of St. Peter's basilica.

We continued our walk through a few of the piazzas to do some people watching.  We finished the day with another great Italian dinner (I promise, the blog about the food is coming soon!). 


Now we are on our way to southern Italy, staying in Pompeii. 

Peace, my friends!

Roman Catacombs

Visiting cemeteries has been one of the common threads in this time away.  In Baltimore, I visited the gravesite of Edgar Allen Poe on All Saints Day.  A few weeks later I walked the cemeteries of New Orleans.  One of the prominent graves is that of a voodoo priestess from the 19th century.  People still visit her grave, leaving trinkets and items in hopes that Marie will grant their wish.  The above ground cemeteries are called, cities of the dead and are well worth a visit when one is in New Orleans.

Yesterday we visited the underground cemetery outside of Rome known as the catacombs.  This burial site is the final resting place of approximately 500,000 people.  There were units reserved for families where whole families would remain together.  There were also areas where former popes and martyrs were buried. 

Our guide led us through the site, explaining that there were actually four known levels to this particular catacomb.  The burials stopped sometime in the fourth century when Christians were permitted to be buried within the city walls of Rome.  The site continued to be a venerated place until invaders sacked the city and destroyed many of the tombs in search of treasures.  As a result, the catacombs were forgotten and not rediscovered for about 900 years. 

It was fascinating to walk through the often narrow walkways with empty tombs filling both sides of the path.  I always find it meaningful to visit the burial places and pay my respects, even if I do not know those who are buried there.

On a lighter note, while we were waiting for the catacombs to open, Diane and I were walking the outdoor portion.  We came upon four cats and a couple of older women feeding them.  We thought this was humorous to find cats among the catacombs and so Diane took a photo.  The women seemed surprised and with their best Englished asked, "Don't you have cats where you are from?"

They explained that they come to the grounds every day to feed the five cats who live there.  We had a delightful conversation with them and they guided us to some interesting sites while we awaited the opening of the catacombs.

Peace, my friends!

An acorn along the roadside

Ok, I could tell you about visiting the Vatican Museum and the Sistine Chapel.  But, I am in one of those playful moods, so this is what I have to share for today.  The story of Padre Luigi:

Padre Luigi had finished his seminary studies and was the priest at a small church north of Rome.  It was a great place to be and Padre Luigi loved the people.  But, all of his colleagues were establishing grand cathedrals.  Their churches were growing in large numbers.  Much of it was due to the fact that his colleagues had made pilgrimages to the Holy Land where they had obtained sacred items to bring  back to their churches.  One church had pieces of the original cross.  Another had pieces of the original manger.  These were displayed prominently in the front of the church and people traveled for miles away to view these sacred articles.  The churches grew as members spoke of the holy items their church possessed.  Padre Luigi felt that he needed to obtain a sacred object for his church.  The members were quite pleased with things as they were and did not feel it necessary to have a sacred object, but Padre Luigi insisted.

So Padre Luigi made the trip to the Holy Land.  He decided to begin backwards, starting in Jerusalem, the site of the crucifixion.  Much to his consternation, no sacred objects remained.  The pieces of the cross had all been taken.  Items from the Upper Room...gone.  Cloaks laid on the ground on Palm Sunday...all taken by other pilgrims. 

So Padre Luigi continued backward. He went to other places mentioned in the gospels, but each time the results were the same.  No sacred objects to be found,.  His last stop was Bethlehem, the place of Jesus' birth.  As he searched for potential items to bring back to his congregation, the answers were the same.  Nothing remained. Padre Luigi was very sad.  He sat on a stump and began to weep.  What a disappointment it would be to return home empty handed. 

For days he sat on that stump in disappontment.  But as he sat there, he noticed something unusual.  The women of the village were digging beneath some of the trees.  When he inquired about this, they told him that it was custom that when a birth occured in the village, they always buried the placenta under a tree.  The tree was associated with the child that was born.  Long after a child had grown, and perhaps moved to another village, mothers would sit beneath the trees and remember the children of the village. 

Padre Luigi inquired about the stump upon which he had been sitting.  One of the mothers explained that the tree had been planted by a carpenter and his wife who soon thereafter moved away.  The tree had grown strong for many years providing shade and relief for villagers and sojourners alike.  Padre Luigi asked for and received permission from the village elders to remove the portion of the tree that had fallen.

He had this tree transported to the village where he lived.  From the tree, local carpenters fashioned an altar that was placed in the church where Padre Luigi served.  He told the story of where the tree had come and how it had come about and the possibility that it might be something very sacred.  No one knew for certain.  But then again, no one was sure that it wasn't.  And so that little church cherished their altar and the possibility that it might have some connection to the child of Mary and Joseph. 

But, of course, only the largest portions of the tree were used in making the altar.  The smaller branches and acorns were set aside and never used.

Many years later, a traveler came upon an acorn.  Who knows whether or not it might have some ties to that tree from Bethlehem.  But as he walked along the road, he put that acorn in his pocket and decided to bring it home to his friends and place it upon the altar.  It is a sacred object.  It isn't a piece of the manger, or a part of the cross, or a hem of a garment worn by the Master, but it is holy...and worthy...and filled with mystery...just like us all.

Peace, my friends.

Meaningful Meandering

Our day began with a Metro ride to one of the churches.  Unfortunately, it was closed so we meandered the streets of Rome.  We visited a few sights and found our way to the Pantheon.  This is one of the best preserved of the ancient buildings in Rome.  It has served many purposes throughout its history, now operating as a church.  It is also the final resting place for two former kings and the painter Raphael.

Our next stop was a few blocks away at the Piazza di Novana.  Diane pointed out that one of the features of the winding roads is that one can seldom see what lies ahead.  We walked into the Piazza and were stunned by its beauty and activity.  There was a street fair atmosphere to the piazza.  Vendors and carnival games and even a merry-go-round. The piazzas are gathering places for people and a great place to watch others. We joined in the fun, having lunch and watching the people around us.





After spending time in the piazza and a trip to the Museum of Rome, we walked to another piazza, the Piazza of Spagna.  What struck me most here was the international feel of the area.  In the piazza there was a bagpiper playing for the crowds.  Then we walked up the 132 stairs (Diane counted) brought from Spain.  At the top of the stairs is the Trinita dei Monti church, a primarily French speaking church.  They were just beginning mass there, so we sat and enjoyed the worship.  Unlike another church where we worshiped, this one was very welcoming.  We both felt very at home, in spite of the language differences.  The music and singing were wonderful, led by the monks and nuns in the church.  When it came time for the passing of the peace, the monks and nuns walked through the crowd with warm hospitality.  Such a welcoming spirit truly makes a difference.  I was very touched by the service and was glad that we arrived when we did.

After worship we returned to the hotel for a bit and then found a little restaurant around the corner for an excellent dinner.  Another fine day in Italy.

Peace, my friends.

Building upon the Past

Day two in Italy and we are off and running.  We begin with a trip on the Metro, Rome's subway system.  It is pretty easy to navigate and we bought a one week unlimited fare so we can use this whenever we need.  Our trip today takes us downtown to the San Clemente Church.  The AAA guidebook highly recommended this and they were right.

It took a little walking to find the church as it is not listed on the maps handed out by the hotels.  It is not one of the major basilicas.  San Clemente, however, dates back to the 12th Century and the interior features some incredible frescoes and beautiful marble that is so typical of churches in this area.  But, one of the things that distinguishes this church from others is that they discovered a hole that led down into an unknown portion of the church.  The current building was constructed atop the old San Clemente church which dates around the fourth century. 

After they began the excavation of the area, they found worship spaces, old frescoes and other artifacts from the previous congregation.  These are on display as one walks through the lower interior portions of the building.  One of the frescoes had the inscription: "Whosoever may read these letters of my name, let him say, 'God have mercy on unworthy John.'"  History may never reveal the meaning behind this, but it sounds like the makings of a good story.  Unworthy John, your work survives and it is appreciated by an unworthy, but thankful, sojourner. 

Surprisingly, there is another level beneath the 4th Century church.  They discovered that the church was built atop the site of a pre-Christian temple and a home with a running spring.  There was not a lot of information about these two, but they were interesting to tour nonetheless.

I found it interesting to view the various levels and the ways in which the city has grown and changed. Later we learned that it was typical for a building to become unused and for the limestone and marble to be "recycled" in other buildings.  Modern churches may have flooring from previously pagan temples and archways may include the remnants of places of worship.  They just keep building upon the foundations that were there.

I wish I could share some photos from San Clemente, but photography was not permitted.  Even so, as with many places we have visited, I suspect that no picture could begin to do justice to the reality of its beauty.  We bought the tour book, so when we return, I can share the sights that way. 

Our gratitude goes out to the architects of the modern structures and the historical foundations of those who went before, unworthy though we may be.

Peace, friends!

Our First Taste of Italy

It is our first full day in Italy.  We began with mass at the old Santa Maria degli Angeli church just a few blocks from the hotel.  We had visited the church the day before, impressed with its immensity.  The church is dimly lit, so its beauty was mostly hidden in the evening hours.  But in the morning daylight, there was much to behold. 

Like other churches we would visit that day, I found it overwhelming.  There is so much to see.  Paintings stretch from the floors to the ceiling and then continue on the ceilings.  Ornate sculptures fill the room.  Decorative carvings hang in every niche.  I found that even as my eyes scanned the room, I couldn't take it all in.  It made me think that one could worship in this space for years and still see new things each time. 

After we worshiped we walked the streets making our way to Santa Maria Maggiore, arriving at the conclusion of their mass.  This was an even larger structure with chapels larger than many churches.  One of the impressive features of this cathedral is a large area beneath the altar where they have the relics from the manger.  As one kneels at the altar, your focal point is two-fold.  One is to look forward at the altar with the cross.  

 

The other is to look downward toward the manger.

 It creates an image of kneeling in that space between life and death and an opportunity to contemplate one's own journey.

Next, we walked in search of another famous church, only to miss our turn and end up at the Colisseum.  We have signed up for a tour of this later this week and look forward to visiting this immense structure. 

After lunch at a little cafe (I will have to write about the food at some point!) we learned our way around the Metro and rode to a little park area.  Were it not raining this would have been a nice place to meander, but instead we walked to the Museum of the House of Borghese to view the artwork.  Two floors of paintings and sculptures are on display.  The main display is from Lucas Cranach, an artist from the German Reformation and a friend of Martin Luther. 

Dinner was at a nice restaurant a few blocks from our hotel.  The waiter poured on the charm toward my lovely wife.  When it came time for the check he offered to bring my bill and let Signora stay.  Thankfully, she returned with me so we can continue our adventures together.

Cooking Classes

For the past two days, I have been taking a cooking class in New Orleans.  The classes are a mixture of traditional New Orleans cooking, regional history lessons and tasting delights. On the first day, the instructor made gumbo and jambalaya.  I was fascinated that as she cooked, she explained how the various ethnic groups who settled in this area brought something to the recipes.  The Germans brought the sausage, a traditional element to the gumbo.  The French brought what they called the Trinity of ingredients (onions, celery and green peppers) that are found in many of the recipes.  The Italians brought the garlic.  The Africans brought the rice.  The Irish...I think we brought the beer :-)  All of these cultures added something to what became known as the traditional New Orleans style cooking.  A single recipe represents all these cultures and recalls the contributions of one's neighbors and ancestors.

When the meal was complete, the instructor served each of the dishes to us.  As I savored each bite, I thought about the history lesson and the ways in which each ethnic group contributed something special to make the meal such a delight.  If it is true for our cooking, I believe it is true for any gathering of people (a family dinner, a neighborhood, a church, a nation).  Each person brings their unique contributions and flavors that final product.

Peace, my friends!

An Unexpected Chapel

This morning I walked across this little island called Manhattan.  Due east of the flat where I am staying is the United Nations Building.  Like many public buildings these days, there were metal detectors and no liquids allowed inside.  So, I walked the block to finish my bottled water.  Across the street there was a place called "The Church Center."  The front doors said, "entry to the chapel."  Unfortunately, the doors were locked.  So I am left to ponder what the chapel of the Church Center might look like.

Having finished the bottled water, I returned to the United Nations Building.  Inside there was a photographic display of people with AIDS in nine nations around the world.  Downstairs I enjoyed a trip through the gift shop and perusing the book store (I have yet to meet a bookstore I didn't enjoy!) 

The real suprise, however, was back at the entry level.  There at the U.N. is a little chapel.  It was created in the 1960's as a quiet space where people can meditate.  The room is dimly lit with bare white walls along the sides and a mosaic on the front wall.  Other than the chairs where visitors can sit, the only other object is a large rock, serving as the focal point and altar, in the center of the room. 

I sat in one of the chairs and began to think about this particular chapel.  I thought of those who might have sat in that same space...persons of all nations, people of many religions, people of all languages. 

I wanted to add my voice to the petitions spoken in that sacred space by praying for peace in our world.  I thought of refugees who have been displaced from their homeland because of wars.  I thought of images of young boys carrying rifles larger than themselves.  I thought of specific places where violence and revenge continue to be common practices. 

I enjoyed the visit to the United Nations and seeing the flags of the countries of the world flying together in one place.  But most of all, I appreciated the chapel set aside where people from around the world can lift their voice in the hopes for a more peaceful world. 

Peace to you, my friends.

The Art Museums

One of the delights of the past few weeks has been trips to Art Museums.  In San Francisco, Diane and I visited a neighborhood gallery.  Maybe the curator was bored, maybe she took a liking to us...I don't know...but she took us into the basement and showed us some of the works that are not seen by the public.  We viewed Picassos, Chagals, Warhols, Harrings and so many more.  It was a great treat, especially to view these works with Diane's great knowledge and appreciation for art.

Then in D.C. I took a couple of trips to the National Art Gallery.  While there was much to capture my attention, I found myself captivated by the works of Rembrandt.  His dark backgrounds and shadowy figures were mesmerizing.  One picture has inspired me to a short story that I am working on, based upon a peasant figure in the background of one of his works.

Now, here in New York, we visited the Museum of Modern Art.  Again, seeing these works with one so knowledgeable enhances the experience.  From Monet to Matisse, it is fascinating to see the actual works that one typically sees in books.  Among my favorites were Van Gogh's "Starry Night" and Monet's "Water Lillies."  The immensity of Monet's work was overwhelming.  And the beauty and tranquility captured by Van Gogh provided a nice restful moment in the hectic lifestyle of the big city.

The only sad thing is that no photograph can truly do justice to the beauty of the real thing.  Like many things in life, we are left trying to describe the indescribable. 

Beside is a photo of "Starry Night."  From where I stand, there is a lot of beauty in that photo.

Peace, my friends!

The Altar of the Excluded

On a recent trip to Washington D.C. I decided to visit the National Cathedral.  This incredible structure, made from limestone from Bloomington, took more than a century to complete. 

The details of this house of worship were meticulously done.  A brief video tells the story of the chief architect who worked painstakingly on these details.  In one place, he miscalculated by a fraction of an inch.  In such a huge structure, this little detail would not have been noticeable, but it was to the architect.  He concealed the mistake with two small gargoyles, one showing a man tearing his hair out when he realizes his miscalculation and the other showing his moment of insight as he realizes how to fix it.  The whole structure has that feel that no small detail was taken for granted or overlooked.

At the head altar, the railing features a series of hand sewn pew cushions upon which worshipers can kneel.  The railing itself features twelve supporting posts.  These posts represent the twelve disciples.  Each of these posts includes a carving of one of the disciples.  Again, the attention to details was amazing.  Each disciple was unique and included identifying images. 

But, the tour guide pointed out, the post on the far left had been left empty, representing the disciple, Judas, who betrayed Jesus.


With such attention to detail, I was shocked and surprised.  The story of the Last Supper does not exclude Judas.  In fact, Jesus includes him around the table and includes him in that holy meal.  Instead of representing the disciples, at that moment, the railing felt more like the church.  Why does the church exclude when Jesus did not?

Before I left the cathedral, I felt the need to pray at the altar.  I knelt at the far left side of the altar, at the empty post, praying for those who have been and continue to be excluded, not by God, but by the church.

The Holocaust Museum

One of the priorities for my travels was to come to Washington D.C. to visit the Holocaust Museum.  This has been high on my list since its opening. 

But as I walk through this four story labyrinth of a terrible part of our world's history, I ponder why it was so important to be here.  The museum tells the story of the rise of Nazism in Germany and the subtle ways in which Jews were scapegoated.  In telling the story, the designers do not sugarcoat the history.  They point out moments throughout when the German citizens and world leaders could have swayed the outcome but did not.  While it was sad to read such accounts, the honesty was profound.

The images from the concentration camps were difficult to look at.  And even as I gazed upon these images, I am sure that the photos could not do justice to the reality of the suffering that took place there.  Along with the photo and written accounts, there were some powerful visual displays.  In one area there were the discarded shoes, thousands of them, taken from the Jews before they entered the gas chambers.  The shoes were all sizes...men's, women's and children's.  Amid the large pile of shoes, my eyes focused on a small pair of shoes, probably belonging to a child, and I imagined the life that had once inhabited them.

In another display there were photographs of the people who dwelt in some of the villages.  The photos were of the kind of occasions we might photograph...weddings, birthdays, holidays, special occasions.  These were the people of the Holocaust looking back from better days.

While the Jews were the main focus of the exterminations, there were displays of other groups singled...gays and lesbians, political opponents, the handicapped, Gypsies and many others. 

There were several moments where I was moved to tears.  I was not alone.  Benches were sparse in the museum and people stood and cried where they were.  And I found myself asking again, why was it so important to be here.

For one I think it is important to remember the lives of those who perished.  It is a matter of paying respect. 

I also believe it was important to me to see the recognize the reality of evil in our world.  And in doing this, the point was not to isolate that evil within Nazi Germany or "bad people" who live somewhere else.  It was important to recognize that all of us have the capacity to hurt or help, myself included.  On any given day, I have the ability to lift someone's spirit or crush their dreams.  That is the nature of free will.

But most importantly, I wanted to come to the Holocaust Museum for the unexpected hopefulness that it provides.  Sad as it was, there were stories of Jews marching into the gas chambers, knowing that they were about to die, singing the prayers of their faith.  There were stories of people and communities that defied the Nazis to provide safe lodging, at the risk of their own lives, to Jews fleeing persecution.  I am touched by such stories.  And in the end, these are the reasons I wanted, perhaps even needed to come, to the Holocaust Museum.  In the midst of such unimaginable tragedy, there are stories of hopefulness and love for one another that emerge from the ruins.

Forest Meditations

Today I drove four hours east from San Francisco to Yosemite National Park.  My first and only stop for the day was Mariposa Grove, the home of the Sequoias.  Along with my trusty camera and a light jacket, I hiked with a copy of a book containing meditations from John Muir's journals.  I was planning to read the entries at various points along the way.

At the first sequoia I found a place to sit and read Muir's words.  Recognizing that some of his writings were inspired by the same beauty I was seeing today made the readings very special. 

But then I recalled Barbara Brown Taylor's book, "An Altar on the World."  In that wonderful book she tells about encouraging students to read a poem to a tree and the ways in which this impacted the students.  I decided to do the same.  So, throughout the next four hours of hiking, I stopped to read Muir's words aloud...to the sequoias, to the chipmunks playing on a stump, to the mist flowing through the trees, to all of God's creation.  And after each reading I gave thanks for such a beautiful place.

Along the path, I came upon five does grazing.  They were not disturbed by my presence.  I was able to get several good photos.  After a while I continued walking and nearby came upon four stags.  Again, they allowed me to approach without darting away.  I left the path and came to a fallen tree right where the stags were grazing.  I knelt down with my knees cushioned by the soft forest floor.  My arms rested on the fallen log, just a few feet from these incredible creatures. 

Kneeling there, I became aware of the familiarity of this pose.  In Mariposa Grove I was kneeling at the railing receiving this incredible gift.  One stag continued forward as I read, coming within ten feet.  It was a holy moment.  I knelt there for perhaps 20 minutes before saying thanks and returning to the path. 

"Nearly all the park is a profound solitude.  Yet, it is full of charming company, full of God' thoughts, a place of peace and safety...I can write only hints to incite good wanderers to come to the feast."  
                  ---John Muir

Dancing From Saturday Night to Sunday Morning

I am a parrothead.  For those who may not be familiar with that phrase, it refers to a fan of Jimmy Buffett.  I have wanted to attend one of his concerts in Indy for a long time.  But, Parrotheads are very devoted fans and they tend to sell out concerts in a matter of minutes.  So, I have never attended a live show.

On the local radio I heard that Buffett was performing on Saturday night in nearby Santa Cruz.  It was worth a shot.  I discovered that there were a few lawn seats available.  I bought one. 

The evening was all that I had hoped for.  Lots of singing, dancing on the lawn and a smile that stayed on my face long after the concert ended. 

With a late night concert, Sunday morning worship came very early.  I wanted to attend the 8:30 a.m. service at St. Gregory's.  I made it into the sanctuary right at 8:30.  The service was a delight.  Wonderful singing and chants, an excellent sermon and prayers and reflections shared by the congregation.  Near the end of the service, we dismissed from the sanctuary and danced to the communion table.  After we had received communion, we danced once again.  It was an expression of our shared joy.

Dancing on Saturday night to the sounds of Jimmy Buffett and then on Sunday morning with those wacky dancing Episcopalians at St. Gregory's.  The joy was contagious and the smile is still on my face.

Feeding and Being Fed

On Friday I walked to St. Gregory's of Nyssa Episcopal Church to volunteer at their food pantry.  This ministry was brought to my attention through Sara Miles' wonderful book, "Take This Bread."  She writes about being inspired to create a food pantry modeled after their Sunday morning communion. Every Friday they surround the communion table with various fresh foods to distribute.  Like the morning communion, everyone is welcome.  No one is turned away.  Presently, they are serving about 450 families every week. 

I arrived around 11 a.m.  The volunteers were sitting down for lunch.  Immediately, Angela, one of the volunteers arose and welcomed me to the table.  I was fed and I hadn't even done anything yet!  Angela told me that she is not a member of St. Gregory's but she appreciates the work they do and volunteers every week.  She also introduced me to Sara Miles, who was equally gracious in her welcome.

Food at St. Gregory's is distributed around the communion table.  There were stacks of food...artichokes, bok choi, apples, bananas, rice, potatoes, yogurt, bread.  It was a healthy offering of food.

As I prepared to distribute the bananas, I was reminded of the communion metaphor.  I looked the guests in the eyes as I offered them the food they needed.  I presumed that if I was a regular volunteer I would have known some of the regulars and would have been able to call them by name, as I prefer to do in communion. 

Most importantly, I was reminded that the word eucharist comes from the Greek word meaning "to give thanks."  And I heard those words repeatedly.  As hungry people received the food that would nourish their bodies for another week, they said thank you in many different languages.

Two days later I would return to St. Gregory's to participate in worship.  We gathered around the same table and were fed once again.  And I was thankful to be fed in so many ways.

Lessons from Cathedral Grove

In the first few weeks, I have had the great opportunity to visit several prominent cathedrals.  They have been breath-taking.  And the insights from each locations have been many.  But yesterday I visited Muir Woods, about 30 minutes north of San Francisco.  It is named after the conservationist, John Muir.  Muir Woods is the natural habitat for the California Redwood trees.  These trees, though not as wide as their relatives, the Sequoias, can grow up to 400 feet tall.  To stand in the midst of such trees is incredible.

A brief hike took me into what is called, Cathedral Grove.  God;s natural cathedral.  And there were many lessons to be found.  Imagine that these immense trees grow from a tiny, fragile seed.  Imagine that it takes the right conditions and care to reach their magnificient height. 

But the most inspiring and meaningful lesson is in what is called the Family Circle.  A family circle is a ring of trees growing in close proximity to one another.  In the center is the original tree which may have died because of decay, fire or other circumstances.  But, when the original tree died, the root system was still alive and strong.  Shoots began to form from these roots, creating a circle of new trees.  The new stand of trees, surrounding the original one, mature from the root system of that original tee. 

With the five mile hike that followed, I had a lot of time to think about the Family Circle.  It was an inspiring thought to imagine that the death of the tree is not the end.  New life continues to be formed and to grow.  The family circle of trees, surrounding the original tree seemed like an embrace, a symbol of gratitude for the original tree that took seed, put down deep roots and grew strong.  Where there was death, there is a now a loving symbol of hope.  God's Cathedral has some of the best lessons!

Labyrinths

I didn't realize the first few weeks would be spent walking labyrinths.  At the Center for Action and Contemplation in Albuquerque, I found an outdoor labyrinth and spent some quiet moments walking and thinking there. Then at the Ghost Ranch another outdoor labyrinth.  Now, here in San Francisco, my first day was spent exploring and orienting.  I was able to find Grace Cathedral with its well known labyrinth. 

This was a great help to me.  I was experiencing a bit of culture shock, having come from the quiet, slow paced lifestyles of the monastery, pueblos and retreat centers into the frenetic pace of a major metropolitan city.  Walking the labyrinth was a good opportunity to remain in touch with that silent center. 

For those who may not know, a labyrinth is not a maze.  It has a clearly defined path from the entry into the center.  I was walking the canvas labyrinth at Roberts Park we used during Lent last year.  After setting it up in the afternoon, I decided to walk.  There was someone in the Fellowship Hall quietly watching me on this path.  At one point I stopped to think and this person watching said, "I think you need to turn left."  I had to smile. 

A labyrinth is a good means to quieting life's distractions and walking and listening.  In the center, walkers are encouraged to remain there and pray or meditate as long as desired.  The center point at Ghost Ranch had several large rocks upon which one could sit and people had left notes and items in the center. 

In a fast paced world, I find the labyrinth a good way to be intentional about slowing down and listening for that still, small voice. 

Acoma Pueblo

I spent a recent day visiting the Acoma Pueblo, about an hour west of Albuquerque.  The Acoma have fascinated me for several reasons.  For one, I love their pottery which features very intricate, almost web-like designs.  On one occasion, I was fortunate to watch one of the women as she painted and found her work mesmerizing.  I also enjoy visiting the Acoma Pueblo because it is situated atop a very remote mesa.  It is very peaceful and relaxing.

Our tour guide walked us through the village explaining their history.  The culmination was the mission church and cemetery which we were not permitted to photograph.  The guide explained that the village had been receptive to the first priest who arrived, throwing rocks down upon him every time he tried to ascend the mesa. It had less to do with Christianity and more to do with their satisfaction with their own traditions and worship. 

With time, however, they did permit the priest to ascend.  The Spanish leaders sought to convert all the native peoples of the territory and decreed that churches needed to be built in all the villages, including Acoma.  One of the tragic parts of this story is that the site that was chosen for the church was atop their kiva, the sacred ceremonial site.  Years later, pueblos throughout the region would revolt and burn these churches.  The Acoma did not.  Although they refused to re-enter the church, they could not burn it down because it was situated on a holy site for their people.  To burn the church would be to desecrate the kiva. 

Now, more than three hundred years later, our guide explained that most Acoma honor both their Christian roots and their native roots.  And the setting for such worship is the same place, the kiva and church located on the same site. 

Perhaps if we excavated the depths of our personal faiths we would discover more compatibility than we realized.

The Balloon Fiesta

For many years I have heard about theAlbuquerque Balloon Fiesta and have wanted to see it in person.  I scheduled my time so that I would be in town to witness this world-wide event in person.  And it has not been a disappointment.  Most of the events take place early in the morning and late at night.  So on Sunday evening I came to the fiesta and watched as hundreds of balloonists inflated their multi-colored hot air balloons.  The culmination was to be a night burn, meaning the balloons would rise above the ground and then light up like a Christmas ornament.  Unfortunately, the weather did not cooperate for this final portion, but I walked the grounds watching as balloon after balloon was inflated.  It was a delight to watch.

In the photo above you see one of the traditional style balloons.  But there are balloons of all sizes and shapes.  There is one in the shape of Darth Vader, another shaped like a haunted house, a large flying cow, a heart, Spongebob Squarepants and countless others. The enthusiasm was contagious.  As a balloon was inflated, the crowd would cheer.

I returned the next morning at 6 a.m.  Those who know that I am not a morning person can do the math to figure out what time I had to get up to be there before sunrise!  As the sun peaked over the tops of the Sandia mountains, the balloons were once again inflated and rose into the sky.  I cannot begin to describe what it was like to see hundreds of balloons in the air at the same time.  And one of the things that pilots love about Albuquerque is its unusual wind pattern.  They call it the Albuquerque box.  Balloons can take off in one direction, change their altitude slightly and reverse directions taking them back to where they began.  I watched this phenomenon as balloons returned to the same spot from whence they took off. 

Through it all I felt like a kid, mesmerized by the beauty and tranquility of these balloons.  And while I have fulfilled the desire to attend the fiesta, a new dream has emerged.  I would like to fly in one some day!  How cool would that be!

In Remembrance

The retreat at the Norbertine Center ended on Sunday morning.  Father Angelo would drive me back to the airport where I would pick up a rental car and continue other adventures here in Albuquerque.  But, before I left, there was one last opportunity to worship.  I went to the chapel a little before 9 a.m. to prepare for worship.  Much to my surprise I entered a silent and empty sanctuary.  Finally one other retreatant arrived.  She informed me that the monks had all gone to another church that morning to celebrate the congregation's 25th anniversary.  Fortunately, Father Angelo had volunteered to remain behind in case any of the retreatants wanted to worship.  I appreciated his willingness to remain behind. 

There were three of us in worship, counting Father Angelo.  But, as we came to the Eucharist, the three of us gathered around the simple wooden altar in the middle of the sanctuary.  We spoke a liturgy that was very familiar to my ears.  And in that moment I was reminded of the communion of saints.  At that very moment, the congregation at Roberts Park and others around the world were also sharing this holy meal.  Although there were only three of us at that particular table, we were united with others who gathered around tables all around the world.  It was a pleasant reminder. 

Traveling Companions

One of the questions people asked about this journey was who I would be traveling with or when I would meet up with "the group."  I explained that much of this trip would be spent alone and that there was no group.  I will be meeting people along the way, but mostly I will be alone.

But I recognize that I don't really travel alone.  There are many people with me in spirit; people who are in my daily thoughts and prayers and those who are holding me in their thoughts and prayers.

I have also brought some friends for this part of the journey.  Paula D'Arcy, Desmond Tutu, Parker Palmer, Jose Saramago and others.  I bring them through their writings to learn from them.  I have also discovered some friends at the Norbertine Library---Joan Chittister and Tony Hillerman to name a few.  I always have a book nearby and typically am reading several works simultaneously.  I enjoy the company of good literature.

One of the concerns I had about this renewal leave is what if I don't get it right, or worse yet, what if I fail.  I don't know what it would mean to get it wrong or to fail, but those concerns persist.  I realize there is no adequate means to judge the success or failure of this experience.

In her book, "The Gift of the Red Bird" Paula D'Arcy describes a time of personal retreat.  She expresses her fears that in some way she may fail.  She writes, "I have to repeat to myself that I will do this the way I do it.  And I believe God will honor me, however that is."

Amid the fear of failure, the desires to get it right, the uncertainties about the journey, a friend has poured out a bit of grace for the journey.

Slowing Down

When I left Indianapolis it was dark and chill.  I arrived in Albuquerque and it was sunny and 80 degrees.  Time for some adjustments.  But the weather is the least of my adjustments.

Upon arriving in Albuquerque Father Angelo drove me to the Norbertine Retreat Center.  We stopped first to buy food for the week.  Although I sure the Fathers would drive me back if I needed anything I tried to plan for all that I would need.

At the center, I unpacked my things and put away the groceries.  It is early afternoon and the whole day is wide open.  What should I do?  Eat lunch.  Take a nap.  Jog.  Walk the grounds.  Take pictures.  Read.  Write.  I feel the urge to do it all at once.

And that is why I am beginning here.  My life is filled with a constant drivenness.  I move from one task to the next, with little time for contemplation and reflection.  Even while I am in the midst of a task I find myself thinking about what I need to do next.  This gives me a false sense of control.  I'm not really in control but I want to believe that I am.

It is also a trait that is applauded by others.  I get a lot done.  I am busy and prepared. 

But there is a need for more times to slow down, to relax, to rest, to listen to that inner voice longing to be heard.

There will be time enough for what needs to be done.  For now I will enjoy a sandwich in the sunshine and come inside for a nap.

The Preparations

I am in the final preparations for my renewal leave.  There are still many things to be done.  My "to do" list is longer than I can complete in the remaining days.  I need to finish painting the exterior of the house.  There are people to visit.  There are still details of the trip to be worked out.  All the flights have been taken care of thanks to a very helpful travel agent.  And the hotels in Albuquerque, San Francisco. New Orleans and New York are finished. 

Amid the final preparations and unfinished business, I am aware of a conversation between Nicholas and Micah Sparks in their book, "Three Weeks with My Brother."  The two are planning a an around the world adventure.  But, the pressures of the planning are weighing heavily on Nicholas.  He comments that he will be fine once they actually begin their travels.  Micah responds by saying, "Haven't you learned yet?  The anticipation is an essential part of this whole trip.  The excitement of going, the places we'll see, the people we'll meet.  That's part of the joy of this whole thing."

It is a good reminder in these final days.  I am excited about the time away and the things I will experience.  I am excited about sharing these things with those who are interested.  But this time of planning and preparing is part of the fun as well.  Our joy does not begin later...when we finally graduate, when we finally get that job we are hoping for, when we get married or have children, when the children move out, when we finally retire, when the kids move out again....joy doesn't wait.  It is present throughout the journey. 

Peace.