Holy Week in Rome

Thomas More sophomores were privileged to spend Holy Week in Rome, and attend several key liturgical celebrations with Pope Benedict XVI. On Palm Sunday, students clutched their little yellow Vatican tickets and showed up several hours early to St. Peter's Square, in order to claim decent seats that would put them up close to the Holy Father during the extended liturgy that marks the beginning of Holy Week.

On Holy Thursday, some students got Vatican tickets from the good sisters who run Villa Maria, while others fanned out to attend the Liturgy of the Lord's Supper at various ancient, Renaissance, or Baroque churches in Rome—such as Santa Maria in Trastevere. Good Friday featured the Holy Father leading a Way of the Cross in the Colosseum—the site where uncounted numbers of Christian martyrs, over centuries of persecution, shed their blood. TMC students joined thousands of Romans and pilgrims at this service, despite the driving rain. Pope Benedict had originally intended to lead the Way of the Cross himself, but was forced by the weather to preside over the ceremony from a covered place on the constructed stage.

Luke Chichester and Kateri Cooper on a sunnier day for St. Peter's Square. Rainy Easter Morning was no day for photography.

Easter Sunday, TMC students again took their Vatican tickets to St. Peter's Square. Those who made it to the liturgy were “treated” to a natural reminder of the Church's tradition of baptizing catechumens at Easter: the crowd of tens of thousands were first sprinkled, then drenched in a rain storm that lasted two and a half hours—and featured claps of thunder that began just before the Offertory. Readings and prayers were given in Portuguese, French, German, and Chinese, and the pope offered the Easter blessing in 57 languages.

In his “Urbi et Orbi” message for the day, Pope Benedict made an impassioned plea for reconciliation among the combatants in trouble spots around the world, hinging his call for peace on a profound theological reflection:

“Dear Christian brothers and sisters in every part of the world, dear men and women whose spirit is sincerely open to the truth, let no heart be closed to the omnipotence of this redeeming love! Jesus Christ died and rose for all; he is our hope – true hope for every human being. Today, just as he did with his disciples in Galilee before returning to the Father, the risen Jesus now sends us everywhere as witnesses of his hope, and he reassures us: I am with you always, all days, until the end of the world (cf. Mt 28:20). Fixing the gaze of our spirit on the glorious wounds of his transfigured body, we can understand the meaning and value of suffering, we can tend the many wounds that continue to disfigure humanity in our own day. In his glorious wounds we recognize the indestructible signs of the infinite mercy of the God of whom the prophet says: it is he who heals the wounds of broken hearts, who defends the weak and proclaims the freedom of slaves, who consoles all the afflicted and bestows upon them the oil of gladness instead of a mourning robe, a song of praise instead of a sorrowful heart (cf. Is 61:1,2,3). If with humble trust we draw near to him, we encounter in his gaze the response to the deepest longings of our heart: to know God and to establish with him a living relationship in an authentic communion of love, which can fill our lives, our interpersonal and social relations with that same love. For this reason, humanity needs Christ: in him, our hope, “we have been saved” (cf. Rom 8:24).”

TMC students and faculty made their way home, drenched, amidst the press of a peaceful and amazingly genial crowd, to face a peaceful, sleepy, rainy Easter Day.

The Music... and the Silence of Rome

The impact of the sounds of Rome is evident to any pilgrim. But almost more stunning is the absence of sound. The soft steps of visitors rings out, pounding against the beautiful baroque walls of Saint John Lateran. The light pours through the windows high above as the slightest whisper from a mother to here child is audible across the Church. Reverence can be heard-heard in not hearing a single thing. The contrast of the reverence, as silence pervades the ears, with the bustling and hurrying sounds of the street outside is beautiful. Vendors hoping to snag tourists gaping at the sights prod and prod you to look at their array of sunglasses.

The undeniable closeness that can be felt to the eternal is all the more striking as one enters from a street full of cars, buses, tourists and vendors. The sudden absence of sound lets even the uninformed tourist know this place (church) is no sight-seeing or photo-taking bonanza. It is a place of worship, of beauty, of faith, and of adoration. Catholics across the globe feel connected through prayer and silence in these historical churches.

The echo of footsteps is drowned out by the beginning of a Mass. The entrance hymn rings out from a small side chapel flooded with the faithful as our tour is concluding. It is impossible not to be moved by the reverence of the little nuns who kneel on the stone with their hands folded like figures in religious art of the Middle Ages. I walk past the side chapel where the sacrifice of the Mass has begun and the silence is marked only by the words of the little priest. His whisper is like a call within these walls. I dropped to my knees as I passed, not out of habit, but out of awe...not even aware of the difference until I rise.

In the silence of Saint John Lateran, I can hear something within myself. I can feel something there I have not felt. In Wilbur's poem "Ceremony" we are shown the importance of rites. Rituals can become habitual, but in the spirit of the people and the place, reverence can silence the world. Ceremony and grandeur can shock the senses of the physical side of man, shock it into silence. A silence through which we can hear....

The culture and tradition of Rome are audible. From the moment I open my eyes in this morning I hear the beautiful blend of sounds that let me know that I am in Italy. The fascinating mixture of tradition, modern life, and the enduring Christian presence is heard at all times of the day. The visible beauty of Rome is preached by all those pilgrims, tourists and the like, but before my own experience I had never been told of the music present everywhere-from the bustling modern streets of the Coliseum to the quiet, even sleepy side streets of Trastevere. It is almost impossible not to be stunned with the beauty of the grand churches and ancient ruins or obelisk surrounding one as he arrives in Rome. But for those who are merely attracted by "the sights," hurrying from location to location, the sounds may be missed or even lost in the hurried pace of a traveler. Maybe it is only by living, as I am now, here in Rome that one can slow the eyes and mind and listen-listen to the sounds of Rome.

Traditional culture can be heard everywhere in Rome. But, to my ears, the street markets, little gypsy musicians, and small cafes with old men conversing over the newspaper enjoying a small glass of red wine. The Piazza Santa Maria in Trastevere is filled with the sounds of Italian culture. Gypsies play guitar or accordion on the steps of the beautiful fountain in the center of the piazza. The coins that they earn jingle and clink as they are dropped in by passersby or tourists awed by the quaintness. Old men sip their "vino," chattering amongst themselves, perhaps discussing politics or the weather...even the quality of the drinks. Their characteristic little dogs who sit obediently at the heels of their masters occasionally yip or beg for a scrap from the table. Sitting and listening to these sounds, one can hear Italy, hear Rome, hear Trastevere. The sounds of "progress" and modern convenience add to the complexity and beauty of this music. Cars (whose horns seem to honk out of habit) come in and out of the sound scape. Mopeds weave through the crowds and cars with their higher- pitched tone complimenting the deeper rumblings of the cars. Women in fashionable stiletto heels clink over the cobblestone streets-tapping their own beat into the music of the Piazza. The presence of the Church is heard, marking the time in the piazza from the bell tower of Santa Maria. The power of the sounds of the bells can be felt as well as heard, much like a deep cello in a string quartet. The Church keeps time and tempo to the music of Rome. It regulates and marks out the pace and influence of all other sounds. The undeniable influence of Christianity may be heard by those who are listening. It has woven tradition, culture, and the modern into a symphony-one conducted by the metronome of the Catholic Church.

Sitting in the Piazza, cutting off the distraction of the eyes, I am able to listen. All of the sense can be fed by the Roman experience. Though we think of seeing, and perhaps tasting, all that is beautiful and Roman, it has come as a surprise to me to hear Rome. I recommend that you listen....

--By a Thomas More College sophomore in Rome