Plane to Philadelphia
So about yesterday.
We had breakfast at the hotel and then headed to the Basilica of St. Paul Outside the Walls (say that three times fast), something I literally knew nothing about. We walked in and I was hit with two overwhelming sensations-
a) The stench of must and mold
b) the simplicity of the structure.
Simplicity isn't the best word to use when describing a church that holds second place, size-wise, in Rome… But after seeing St. Peter's (ironically enough, Paul's competition), it fits. The number of statues, the amount of decoration, and the use of paint and gold all felt restrained and tasteful. That being said, the place was HUGE… Unlike other churches we've visited that have been packed with people, this one was almost empty. The area is completely open, giving us plenty of room to walk up and down the rows of columns. They were holding some kind of service at the front of the church while we visited, which meant organ music and some of the most haunting singing I've ever heard.
Gave me plenty of time to think. I've seen a lot of enormous churches these past two weeks, and heard a lot from others about how depressing it is to know that the majority of those churchgoers aren't living as Christ dictates. Until recently, I would probably have taken the same view; the cathedrals would have represented nothing but a dusty, disconnected religion. Now, however, I'm not so sure. After all, God doesn't look just at the crowd of people streaming in and out of Notre Dame. He sees individuals with hearts in all different places. Of course He grieves when ninety-nine people come in, take pictures, say an obligatory confession, and leave… But if one person walks in with a heart full of worship and reverence, won't He rejoice? Doesn't that make such a utilization of man's artistic and engineering talents worth it? That doesn't justify a dead church by any means, but it does provide a more 'glass half full' viewpoint. Take for example what we did after St. Paul's… Catacombs. You can't really get any 'deader' than there. Walking through those dim, narrow halls, pressed against the niches where Roman Christians, many of them martyrs, were laid to rest… It was the exact opposite (visually) of St. Paul's.
And yet, we worshipped. Huddled in a chapel deep in the earth, we sang hymns. It was both eerie and wonderful- eerie because you could almost feel the presence of the long-dead Christians, and wonderful because of their faith and testimony that lives on 2000 years later. Wonderful because we all end up in the same place- and it's not in those tombs.
After the catacombs, I couldn't help think about our visits to the churches, and how both places were so similar. We brought life into a dead place. The parallels are scary. At first glance, it's tempting to see these churches as a sign of a dead religion… I believe we should see them as opportunities to go and worship, both in the privacy of our hearts and through building relationships in order to further the Gospel.
So there's my thought for the day. Onwards.
We headed into a beautiful part of town, up a hill overlooking Rome. When I think 'Rome', this is what I think of: wide plazas, quaint streets, forgotten churches that toll their bells in mournful reminder they are still standing. We walked a lot, then split for lunch. I had caprese at a cafe, then we headed to another plaza for gelato. After lunch, we headed back to the Trevi Fountain area, which is too crowded and too touristy for my taste. But I did manage to get gifts for the last few people on my list.
We went looking for a library to buy a cookbook for Nicole, but the directions Tomasso gave us were either wrong, or we were horribly turned around (I'm betting on the latter). We stopped two ladies on the street to ask directions… Here's a tip: when looking for a library in Rome, don't ask Spainards for directions. They're as clueless as you are. Biblioteca?
We met back at the Fountain, where Sarah convinced me to throw another coin, but from a very awkward angle- to the side of the fountain and up the wall. Because of this, I may or may not have hit a guy sitting by the water… And may or may not have seen him at our hotel later that night. Oops. Well, at least my chances of coming back are twice as good.
We went to a restaurant to make our own pizza, but I was too hungry (read: lazy), and volunteered to stay at the table to make the process go a little faster. I had plenty of time to eat it… and pay three euro for an americano. Same price as a fricking latte, which has extra crap in it. Makes no sense. Sorry, I know you guys are sick of my coffee rants… That was it, I promise.
Back to the hotel. Hang out, pack, sleep, wake up to my last morning in my little room… My last day on that cute little balcony… Last amazing breakfast. I sequestered myself in the back of the bus on the way to the airport and listened to very loud, very angry music as a coping strategy. It's not working all that well.
I am not including a section of this entry on the blog… While I was fine with writing it in a journal, throwing it up on the internet for all to see is a different matter entirely. That being said, I'd be happy to let you read it in the journal itself.
We bid adieu to Tomasso at the airport. What a great guy. Handshakes and pictures all around.
Well, the only other events to narrate are standing in line forever waiting to get tickets, bags checked, etc., then boarding and taking off. So far, we're 2080 miles away from Philadelphia… About five hours left, followed by a five hour layover. Should be interesting.
I suppose my journal ends here. This doesn't even begin to cover all I saw, did, ate, and thought… But it has the basics. It's helped me decompress and organize my thoughts a little better. Most of it's probably just a sloppily written explosion of random thoughts and meanderings.
Thank you, all you beautiful people who helped me get here… It's been incredible. 2400 miles from Rome, and all I can think about is going back. A seed has been planted. As our plane took off this morning, I was listening to "I'll Be Seeing You" by Sinatra… It's a promise.
So goodbye, adieu, adeu, ciao ciao… But not for long.
"Go into the world and make disciples." I'm paraphrasing, but the message is clear. Go. I hope my next trip won't merely be a pleasure tour… I hope that wherever I go next, God uses me to make disciples.
I've rattled on too long. Signing off, now. I'll be seeing you.
Abigail.
And now, we have reached the end of all things.
St. Paul's Outside the Walls
Rome
Meditating on a sunny Roman day
St. Paul's
St. Paul's
…St. Paul's…
In the top left corner, you can see the chains that (presumably) held Paul as a prisoner. Below is his tomb (according to legend).
The catacombs… Where I wasn't supposed to take pictures.
Lunch
Tomasso, our guide. This picture basically sums up our entire trip. We would have followed that hand to the gates of hell… Or, at the very least, a nasty public bathroom. (Which we did, on several occasions.)
A very grainy video of my last morning in Rome.
