by Mary | Aug 18, 2010 | Italy, Rome, Travel
I’m just a couple of weeks away from my trip to Rome. I’ll be blogging here throughout that trip, with photos, observations and more. I hope. As long as the high-speed internet in my hotel room exist
s, as promised. (That’s my hotel on the left — Hotel Della Torre Argentina.) Here’s my August Life Lines column about this upcoming trip:
For the past couple of years I’ve been obsessed with traveling to Italy. I made a promise to myself to get there, somehow, before I turn 50, which is in two years. I didn’t really see how it was going to happen, but the longing was so strong I kept holding out hope that a minor miracle would occur. I realize that international travel does not typically rise to the level of miraculous but that’s pretty much how I see it from where I stand, not having made it past Mexico or Canada since my college trip to China in 1984.
I’ve worked for the Catholic press for more than 25 years (starting as an intern at Catholic New York in 1984), so I felt a visit to the Church’s home office was a logical destination choice. Add to that the fact that my grandfather was born in Naples and my grandmother’s family hails from Avellino and, well, Italy just seemed like a place I had to visit at least once in my lifetime.
Then, a couple of months ago, I received an email from a Catholic writers’ group. It explained that a seminar for journalists who cover the Church had extended its deadline and there was still time to apply for the program, which would be held in…wait for it…Rome. At the time I didn’t even have a valid passport.
To make a long story short, I got the passport, was accepted into program, received a scholarship and booked a flight. In just a few short weeks I will be headed to Rome for ten days of what promises to be part professional opportunity, part spiritual pilgrimage and part personal adventure. The Church Up Close program, which will be held at the Pontifical University of the Holy Cross, is filled with in-person “encounters” and classes with high-ranking Vatican officials as well as visits to the usual tourist haunts – St. Peter’s and the Sistine Chapel – and some not-so-common sights as well. We will be among the small number of daily visitors allowed into the Scavi, the excavation site beneath St. Peter’s Basilica believed to contain the tomb of St. Peter and others.
But even more than those “official” events, I am looking forward to simply being in Italy, wandering the streets, stopping in churches, sipping cappuccino, and soaking up a culture that runs through my veins even if it has not been part of my life up until now. The idea of walking through the incredible history of the Eternal City is beyond what I can imagine, even as I devour travel guides and Vatican journals and novels set in Rome. I can’t wait to be a pilgrim — to walk in the footsteps of saints, to stand in St. Peter’s Square, to attend a papal audience, to experience the land of my ancestors.
Pilgrimage has always been an important part of our faith. Since the earliest days of Christianity right up to the present, believers have traveled to the places critical to our faith story, places that allow us to enter into a long-ago moment in time so that our spiritual lives can receive an infusion of courage and strength and inspiration.
In their book “The Journey: A Guide for Modern Pilgrims,” writers Maria Ruiz Scaperlanda and Michael Scaperlanda remind us of the significance and power of the pilgrim journey: “Although pilgrimage is often lonely travel, it is never unaccompanied. Whether we see them or not, or know them or not, others journey with us.”
Although I will travel to Rome alone in September, I will not be “unaccompanied.” I will be surrounded by thousands of other pilgrims walking the same path, by the spirits of untold numbers of pilgrims who have made this journey for century upon century, and by those unseen pilgrims who have not yet set foot in Italy but have promised themselves that they will some day.
by Mary | Aug 11, 2010 | Italy
When I became pregnant with my youngest, I immediately honed in on the name “Chiara.” At the time, I will admit, it had nothing to do with the most famous Chiara, St. Clare of Assisi, or, as they say in Italy, Santa Chiara di Assisi, whose feast day is today.
No, my fascination with this beautiful name started in college, when I was on a trip to China and spent three weeks traveling with a young woman named Chiara, who was part of our university group. The name struck me as the most beautiful name I’d ever heard, but that may have had something to do with my being named Mary, which, as they sing in the old-time classic, “there is something there that sounds so square.” Chiara (the name, not the person) was about as opposite of “square” as I could imagine.
For more than twenty years, the name Chiara lingered in the back of my brain. I never really considered it when I was pregnant with Olivia. Not sure why not. But when I became pregnant just about six years ago, this name was my clear favorite. I loved the sound of it. I loved the fact that it reflected my Italian heritage. (Although we did at one point consider its Gaelic cousin, “Ciara,” which also means Clare but is pronounced KEER-ah, as opposed to key-AR-ah.)
So Chiara Elizabeth was born on July 21, and her Italian name seems perfectly suited to her. Of all my children, she is the one that will settle down with a stuffed artichoke and pull the leaves through her little white teeth as if she’s been doing it for a lifetime in Naples, hometown of her great-grandpa. She will go to a deli and request provolone and dried Italian sausage for lunch when the others are getting standard turkey sandwiches. She will scarf down fried calmari and pesto with sausage any chance she gets. (Note that she’s rolling out pizza dough in the photo above.) So the name was definitely a good call.
Surprisingly enough, however, this name has led me further along my own spiritual journey. Knowing my daughter shared a name with St. Clare of Assisi made me want to explore this holy woman in more depth. I’d always been a fan of Francis, her spiritual mentor and friend, but Clare was a spiritual footnote for me.
As my own Chiara has grown over the past five years, so has my love of Santa Chiara. Her courage, her faith, her strength were remarkable, especially in light of the fact that she did what she did as a woman in medieval times. Next month, when I finally get to Italy, I’m hoping to find a way to get to Assisi for one day, so I can walk in the footsteps of Francis and Clare. And then some day I’ll take Chiara back to do the same.
Today, when I opened my “Word of God Everyday” daily email, it included a quote from St. Clare: “Look into that mirror daily, always study your face in it, so that within and without you may adorn yourself with all manner of virtue.”
I liked the quote, which was connected to an Old Testament verse about the Son being a reflection of God’s glory. But something about the quote from Clare didn’t sit right with me as it was. It was incomplete and could be confusing to those of us in the modern world. It almost sounded as though Clare were suggesting that we look into an actual mirror and study our own faces. So I searched for it and found the full quote from a letter she wrote to Blessed Agnes of Prague.
Happy indeed is she who is granted a place at the divine banquet, for she may cling with her inmost heart to him whose beauty eternally awes the blessed hosts of heaven; to him whose love inspires love, whose contemplation refreshes, whose generosity satisfies, whose gentleness delights, whose memory shines sweetly as the dawn; to him whose fragrance revives the dead, and whose glorious vision will bless all the citizens of that heavenly Jerusalem, for he is the splendor of eternal glory, the brightness of eternal light, and the mirror without cloud.
Queen and bride of Jesus Christ, look into that mirror daily and study well your reflection, that you may adorn yourself, mind and body, with an enveloping garment of every virtue…In this mirror blessed poverty, holy humility and ineffable love are also reflected. With the grace of God the whole mirror will be your source of contemplation.
Jesus is the mirror — a mirror “without cloud.” And we are meant to reflect him to the world. That’s why I love St. Clare. Happy feast day to my baby Chiara.
by Mary | Aug 10, 2010 | prayer
“During these quiet days of summer, let us thank the Lord for the many blessings we have received and draw ever closer to him in prayer…” That was part of Pope Benedict XVI’s Angelus address this week.
Quiet days of summer? Whose summer would he be talking about? As I read his words, I had a 5-year-old crying because she couldn’t decide on which video to watch and a 10-year-old crying because she was having trouble learning French through a free online program. Mind you, she doesn’t need to learn French. She’s doing it for fun. In the midst of this, I was preparing for an interview for a story I’m writing. And I was minus one child, who’s at Boy Scout camp this week, so things were actually calmer than usual.
Our summer is a lot of things. Quiet isn’t one of them.
Speaking in reference to the Gospel reading in which Jesus tells his disciples, “For where your treasure is, there also will your heart be,” the pope told pilgrims visiting his summer residence at Castel Gondolfo that Christians must “live a more intense life, full of good works.”
Well, we’ve got the “intense” part down pat. Now if only we could find the quiet time for prayer and good works. Perhaps I need a summer residence to retreat to now and then.
I have a feeling that if Pope Benedict spent one afternoon in our house with my children his message would not focus on “these quiet days of summer” but on simply trying to remain sane in the midst of the circus we call home. Then he would run screaming back to Castel Gondolfo, thankful that no one there is crying over French lessons or video time or dinner.
Seriously, I do love the pope’s message about trying to find time during summer vacation to reconnect with God. We make time for family, for fun outings, for sitting by the beach in the sun, but often times we forget to carve out some extra time to thank our Creator for our many blessings. And I do have many blessings, noisy blessings, but blessings nonetheless.
So today, if your days are as crazy as mine, try to find five minutes of quiet, even if you have to lock yourself in the bathroom to get it, and listen for the whisper of the Spirit. If you can hear it over the crying.
by Mary | Aug 6, 2010 | grief
For the past few days I’ve been looking at the numbers on the calendar, growing more and more introspective as we inched closer to August 6. It was twelve years ago today that I learned that the baby I was carrying, my second baby, had died eleven weeks into my pregnancy.
With a mother’s intuition, I had known something was wrong during that pregnancy from a couple of weeks before. The day Dennis and I — with Noah in tow — went to the midwife for my regular check up, I didn’t even take the little tape recorder with me to capture the sound of baby’s heartbeat, so convinced was I that I would hear only silence. I went back for the recorder only after Dennis insisted. But somehow I knew. Because when you are a mother sometimes you just know things about your children, even when there is no logical reason you should, even when they are still growing inside you.
When we went for the ultrasound to confirm the miscarriage, we saw the perfect form of our baby up on the screen. I remember Dennis looking so happy, thinking everything was OK after all, and me pointing out that the heart was still. No blinking blip. No more life.
With that same mother’s intuition, no matter how busy or stressed I am, no matter how many other things I seem to forget as I drive my other three children to and fro, I never forget this anniversary. It is imprinted on my heart. As the date nears, I feel a stillness settling in, a quiet place amid the chaos reserved just for this baby, the one I never to got hold, the one I call Grace.
Two years ago, when
I posted about this day, I talked about how Grace had shaped our family by her absence rather than her presence. I am very much aware of the fact that life would be very different had she lived. She managed to leave her mark on us, even without taking a breath. She lingers here, not only in my heart but around the edges of our lives — especially the lives of our two girls who followed her. I know them because I did not know Grace. What a sorrowful and yet beautiful impact she had on us.
So thank you, baby, for all that you were and all that you have given us without ever setting foot on this earth. The power of one small life.
by Mary | Aug 6, 2010 | prayer
Well, look who decided to show up and write a blog post. Long story. Someday I’ll share it with you, but mostly it comes down to too many work deadlines and not enough hours in the day. Today I had to show up if only to respond to a challenge. OK, not a challenge but a fun request from two blog friends. Both Fran Rossi Szpylczyn at There Will Be Bread (and Parish Blog of St. Edward the Confessor) and Elizabeth Scalia of The Anchoress (and Summa This, Summa That) tagged me in a “meme” that is traveling around the Catholic blog world. They want to know: What are my five favorite Catholic devotions?
To be honest, my devotions are not going to look or sound like traditional devotions. That’s why I added “prayer practices” to the headline. I tend to have trouble with regimented routines in my spiritual life, so my devotional practices are a little unusual. But still, it’s what I do and maybe someone will find something there to add to their own spiritual practice. So here we go…
1. Silent, contemplative prayer – Of course, saying I prefer silent, contemplative prayer does not mean I am good at silent, contemplative prayer. It just seems to be the place I most feel at home. I light incense, I “burn” a battery powered candle, I sit on a little prayer bench before my tiny sacred space that is sandwiched between a treadmill and a recliner in my basement office (see photo above), and I try to listen for God. As soon as I arrive in that spot, I can feel my shoulders start to come down from near my ears, my breathing slows down. I don’t do it enough, but I know without a shadow of a doubt that this silent time nourishes my soul and centers me. I’ve written about my increasing need for silence on this blog in the past — in this post about my silent retreat, in this post on finding serenity in a bowl of oatmeal, and in this post about a sleepless night saved by silence.
2. Music – I know, that’s not a “devotion” and it’s a rather odd choice even as a prayer practice, but it’s true. Music has been an important part of my life, particularly my spiritual life, since I was a little girl. I remember loving the old hymns when I was very young and going to daily Mass a lot. To this day, when they dust off one of those oldies but goodies at church, I smile. I began writing religious songs and singing them at Mass when I was only in junior high and continued into early college in my parish folk group. Music was my way to pray and still is. Sometimes I turn on Gregorian chant and just revel in the beauty. Sometimes, especially when I’m driving in the morning, I put on my Cornerstone retreat CD in the car and sing along to particular songs that say so beautifully what I’m feeling in my soul.
3. Liturgy of the Hours – Yes, yes, I realize this, too, is NOT a devotion. It’s liturgical, but, since it is at least a semi-regular thing in my prayer life, I’m including in on this list. Like contemplative prayer, saying I like this practice certainly doesn’t mean I’ve mastered it. Not by any stretch. And you would know that if you could see me fighting with my ribbons and pages in search of the correct readings, psalms and canticles. Still, this prayer of the Church has begun to resonate with me after many years of trying it and dropping it. I cannot even consider hitting all the hours, but if I can squeeze in even just Morning Prayer I can feel how it reverberates through my day. When I can’t read my Christian Prayer book, I use my Magnificat, especially for Night Prayer. (And I love my Magnificat for Mass. And my kids love MagnifiKid.)
4. Spiritual reading – I find great solace and encouragement in the words of the saints and other holy men and women. In particular, I try to read something each night from Nearer to the Heart of God: Daily Readings with the Christian Mystics. But I sometimes focus in on the words of one particular person for a while, like St. Francis of Assisi or Teresa of Avila or Francis de Sales or Thomas Merton. And through them I often come around to a particular devotion — a prayer before the cross or a morning offering or a prayer when I am stressed and confused. So the spiritual reading prompts me to seek out other devotions. Hence, its connection here.
5. The Rosary – Finally I get to a real devotion, but, wouldn’t you know, I’m not really being entirely truthful by including it on this list. I am terrible at the Rosary, always have been. I want to pray it well, I really do, but, boy, I just can’t — or don’t. I have a finger Rosary, a bracelet Rosary, a Rosary in my car, and countless Rosaries stuffed in drawers all over my house. I’ve got books on the Rosary, brochures on the Rosary, apps on the Rosary. I try and try, but this devotion trips me up. I have a hard time focusing on the words of the prayers while also contemplating the mysteries. I still work at it every once in a while because I know how powerful this devotion is for so many people. So I’ve included it here because I want to say the Rosary regularly once I figure it out or at least stay awake through it.
There you have it. Not a typical list of devotions, but it’s what works for me. What works for you?
And, because this is a meme, I need to tag five other bloggers and see if they’ll be willing to share their favorites with us. I choose Donna Marie Cooper O’Boyle over at View from the Domestic Church, Karen Edmisten, Roxane Salonen over at Peace Garden Mama (even though she was tagged once already), Cathy Adamkiewicz at From the Field of Blue Children (and PIME Missionaries), and Brian Caulfield at Fathers For Good.
Finally, on the news front, I’m going to have a book related to all of this coming out during Lent, so stayed tuned as things develop…
