Pastor’s Blog

Rome Sabbatical – Day 10

I am a bit late getting today’s blog in (actually it is 7:30 AM in the next day, 1:30 AM EST). Quite frankly, I was too pooped last night to even think about what I needed to write down. I think my haphazard sleep patterns, stress of getting lost everyday in the city center, and trying to communicate with my southern-fried-Italian is starting to catch up! Nonetheless yesterday was a good day.

It began normal enough with a walk for my morning cappuccino and cornetto. The typical way to have a cup of coffee at these places is to stand at the bar and drink alongside the locals. Sitting at a table is for tourists, school children and the elderly. Still, I feel a bit out of place standing at the bar sipping and eating and trying not to look conspicuous.

Afterwards I did a bit of shopping at one of the many fresh produce stands all around and bought a few essentials for the day and week, including more of that delicious asparagus and wonderful strawberries (they are red all the way through).

Back in the apartment I sat down and read and wrote for most of the morning. Amy commenced on various household chores that she knows I either loathe or will ignore. Soon Clark was up and he commenced to fixing his own breakfast of fresh eggs, prosciutto and espresso. He is fitting in nicely. Aaron, by and large, misses breakfast because he would rather sleep.

The family decided they would not join me for the day’s itinerary – visiting the historic (which is a redundant word in Rome) National Gallery of Modern Art). This was just fine with me since it was going to involve a lot of walking to a museum that would not be on the top of their taste list.

Since bus times and travel times can very wildly (think the worst of Atlanta traffic, but all the time) I left a bit earlier than necessary but arrived with time to spare. I meandered through Campo de Fiori pizza which daily hosts a colorful outdoor market selling fruits, vegetables, olive oil and olives, cheeses and meats, fish, flowers and racks of what looked to be rather cheap clothing. Since it was about lunch time I bought some pecorino sheep’s milk cheese and two cookies sprinkled with pine nuts.

At 12:45 precisely I met up with the class and all of the ASU faculty. In addition to Dr. Michael Schwartz who is teaching the art and architecture portion of the study abroad, there is Dr. Clay Shotwell, a musicologist, and Dr. Karen Aubrey, a humanities professor. Dr. Aubrey brought along her husband Phil, whose father emigrated from Italy in the 1930s. It has been a treat not only getting to know these students, but the other faculty as well.

We walked for about an hour and a half to get to the Museum and when we arrived a sign on the entrance door greeted us. It read, and here I will simply summarize, closed for a staff meeting; will reopen at 3pm. It was 2 pm and there was really nothing to do but sit on the steps and wait, which turned out to be a pleasant time of resting and catching up with one another.

Once inside the museum Michael stressed, repeatedly, that the “National Gallery of Modern Art was a world class museum which parallels the Museum of Modern Art in New York.” He wasn’t exaggerated – this was some place! Even if you think you are one of those who doesn’t like or get modern art (like Amy and Aaron), you cannot help but appreciate its collection of Cezanne’, Van Gogh, Degas and Monet. There were many more great names: Gustav, Klimt, Mondrian, Coubert, Chrico, Duchamp, Miro and Klein – just to name a few. I was also introduced to some less familiar artists that I walked away appreciating including Birsilli (who reminded me of Gaugin), Bargellini, Klein and Fontana. Michael’s explanations on the works of the latter two were most helpful.

While some of the art could have been categorized as “sacred” in some broad sense, many were essentially exhibition pieces, art becoming its own sphere. On some level, however, if an artist is inspired (which in the Greek usage it implies “God-breathed”) cannot it not also be sacred? I guess it depends on whether or not the response is inspiring. I found many such paintings and a few sculptures that day inspiring.

On the way back home Michael reminded me that I had not yet seen the Caravaggios in Santa Maria del Popolo, so just as it was starting to rain we darted in this church and made our way to one of its chapels. One painting depicted the crucifixion of Peter and the other – on the opposing wall – was a painting of the conversion of Paul (in spite of the title which uses the name “Paul”, “Saul” was not called Paul until after his conversion; the first occurrence is in Acts 13:9). Both are powerful and illuminating works and I will not belittle them with feeble attempts of description. I was, however, mulling out loud to Michael why did Caravaggio choose seemingly two disparate stories (one non-Biblical and the other Biblical) to use in this chapel. Michael shrugged his shoulders and said, “I don’t know; maybe it is because both were dying to something.” Exactly! Now I am wondering who actually went to theology school.

By the time we left the church the drizzle had turned into a steady pour and I was thankful that Amy reminded me to pack my rain coat, which has been a trusted item on many backpacking hikes. On my long walk back to the bus stop my upper half remained dry and warm but from the waist down I was soaked. Around 7:15 PM I stumbled back into the apartment and was greeted by my beautiful family with supper waiting. Amy prepared not only the asparagus I bought that morning, but made a nice fettuccini dish with garlic, pancetta, and a dash of red pepper and parmesan.

After supper and my cerebral energies were fairly well depleted so we all watched the movie “The Anchorman” on my laptop! It was a good day all day.

Thank you for blessing me with such days. Peace be with you,

Rome Sabbatical – Day 9

Waiting for the bus

Today is a national holiday and I was quickly reminded of this when I took my morning stroll and was intending to pick up a few grocery items for breakfast and lunch. Every little shop was closed with the exception of one bar.

Pannini at the Piazzo Navona

Let me explain what a bar is in Italy: it is not a tavern, or American pub, or otherwise a place that serves alcoholic drinks accompanied by bowls of stale peanuts or pretzels. An Italian “bar” does in fact serve mixed drinks, but it should be more thought of as a café (I wonder if it is okay to mix French with Italian?)

At least around our neighborhood these bars are mostly used for espresso, cappuccino, baked goods and some grocery items. Furthermore Italian bars are everywhere. Our neighborhood, which is nearly exclusively apartment buildings with small stores on the first level have them on practically every corner. During our first few days I pondered how competitive these stores must be with one another since there were so many, but then I realized that there probably were not enough of these small shops to service all of the people living here.

Anyway, now I can go on with my story of hanging out in bars every morning while in Italy. This solitary bar was open and while I was enjoying my daily cappuccino and cornet (Italian for croissant) I spied the grocery items I most needed – eggs and milk. I needed bread for sandwiches so I asked the indulgent owner about “pane” at which he disappeared into a back room and soon returned with this huge loaf of what had to be 8×8 inches, sliced to about ½ inch. He sold it by the slice, so I asked for six, forgetting how to say six in Italian. Fortunately I have six fingers so all was good. His wife then wrapped my bread into gift wrapping paper. For just over 6 euros (8 dollars) I walked out of the bar having consumed a cappuccino, a cornet, 6 extra large slices of bread, a half dozen eggs, a pint of milk and two new Italian friends who happened to keep their bar open on a holiday!

“Sights and Sounds You May Not Get in the Museums”

We have now covered almost every region of Rome, with the exception of the Borghese area (which we will visit in a few days). In the center of Rome, not the residential areas, but where everyone goes to visit or work, beggars or pan-handlers are everywhere. This is true in most any urban area in the world, and Rome is no exception.

Ordinarily I resist exploitive photographs but I thought and image would be helpful

Some are clearly destitute with obvious deformities or ailments and others could very well be just trying to make an easy buck (or Euro). Many appeared to be Romas (gypsies) and some are drifters and some are deranged. Several of the crippled Romas seemed to have the same “deformity” – ankles broken to where the feet are twisted grotesquely inward, which made me suspicious of intentional crippling by another. This is not an uncommon practice throughout the world where children are victimized early and grow up begging for money only to have to give it up to their “keeper.”

After a few days of stepping around them in order to enter the churches (please not the obvious irony) it is easy to stop seeing them. I don’t suppose it is practical or even possible to give to every one who asks, although that is what Jesus says to do in his Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5:42). What bothers me most is when I stop seeing, or refuse to see. “Let me have eyes, O Lord to see; ears to hear.”

The street musicians are nearly always a welcome site and they too come in abundance. Some are just young men pounding out chords on beat up guitars. Two or three times we have encountered saxophonists improvising some jazz tunes. We have heard drums, clarinets, accordions and an upright bass. Their music is a gift to the overall atmosphere and as with giving to those in need it is important to give to those who offer their unsolicited gifts of music.

All over Rome there is graffiti. This is not any more unusual than other European cities I have visited; still it is something I wish did not exist. Some of it is protest, others are well wishes (like “Happy Birthday – I just marked up the door to your apartment”) and some if it is just vandalism. The guidebooks do not bother to even mention it. Still, it is part of the larger fabric of this place and as with other sites and sounds one gets a bit use to it.

Our afternoon touring churches was a full and good one. We visited San Carlo alla Quattro Fontane, San Andrea al Quiranale, Santa Maria della Vitoria and several other stops along the way. I have decided that there is just too much to even say about these great sites and in light of this rather lengthy earlier reflection I will just share with you some pictures. Let me simply say that the art and architecture was as impressive as ever. Everywhere one turns there is beauty and inspiration.

Bernini's "Ecstasy of St. Teresa"

I remain grateful for the opportunity,

Rome Sabbatical – Day 8

A view from the Piazza del Popolo

We are now in our second week in Rome have more or less entered into a routine of keeping house, catching the bus to the city center, and walking – lots and lots of walking. We walk to the grocery store, to museums, through museums, to churches and to pizzerias.

I shared in last week’s church newsletter article that the purpose of my sabbatical was to study sacred art with Rome serving as a primary source. Since last week I have visited twelve churches, two museums, one Coliseum, three arches, one Trajan column, one sprawling Roman Forum and I cannot even guess how many fountains. I have viewed great works of art from antiquity, Byzantine, Renaissance, Baroque, and modern. All of this, mind you, within just the first week. There is still plenty more left on the agenda although one of my sons openly protested that surely there was nothing left to see!

Today, however, there was still more to see, but not without doing some walking. Our trek began unofficially with Clark and me walking around our neighborhood. We are about a ten minute walk from the historic Appian Way but I decided I could not wait until our class field trip to see it, so Clark and I made our way to this ancient passageway to the center of Rome. Instead of making it all the way to the road, we took a detour through the Catacombs of San Callisto. We took a leisurely stroll along the lanes lined by both cypress and olive trees. It is the first time since coming to Rome that we have seen acres of grass – quite nice.

"Three Streets Radiating from the Northern Entrance of Rome"

Soon the three of us – this is not a typo because we wisely allowed Aaron to stay at the apartment due to his declared and obvious lack of interest. Please do not worry; we will not allow this everyday! – caught our bus and eventually met up with the class for another tour of churches and their treasures of art and architecture.

San Luigi dei Francesi was our first stop. Three tremendous Caravaggios hang in the fifth chapel on the left, all dedicated to Matthew the Apostle. Most of us are familiar with the first one: “The Calling of St. Matthew.” Yet to only see that one painting without the other two is to completely miss the story the painter was telling. The other two panels depict “St. Matthew and the Angel” and “The Martyrdom of St. Matthew.”  The three combined – a calling, a commissioning, and a completion – present a stirring story told in the beautiful mediums of oil and passion.

Outside San Luigi

We then took a rather long but direct hike up to the spacious and lovely Piazza del Popolo. From the piazza that comes from the northern entrance to Rome one can view three streets that radiate from its center. It is something like a Baroque version of “welcome to Rome” for all the European pilgrims over the last few centuries. Unfortunately once we entered the Santa Maria del Popolo there was a service in progress and we were not able to see some of her great works. We were able to view some of the marble making up its chapel, with one fo the chapels containing some of the richest marble in all of Rome.

One of the great things about Rome is that there is always a “plan B,” so we trekked over to the Trevi Fountain. Along the way we took a detour to a Galleria – a late 19^th century version of a strip mall. We did not do any shopping but Michael Schwartz did want to point it out as an example of neo-classic architecture. We then crossed a street or two (or maybe it was an alley or two) and reached the Trevi Fountain. The crowd was intense and still growing. There Schwartz gave a rather impromptu introduction to this most popular and photographed fountain in all of Rome. He said, and here I am going to quote: “It is the forerunner of the water park and the weakening of allegory.” I suspect he is right, but it is all the same a beautiful place to visit. Besides, even America’s best water parks do not go back to 1762!

A pretty crummy picture of the forerunner of today's water parks!

It was at this point that we broke away from the class and no, it was not because of the opinions of the Trevi. Schwartz decided to hike back up to Santa Maria, which is the very opposite direction of our trek back to the bus stop. We said “arrivederci” and meandered back to our bus stop. Along the way we saw an art supply shop where I picked up some paper and charcoal for rubbings (something I wish I had the other day when we saw some fragments from pre-Constantine Christian catacomb markers.

When we got to our apartment we found that Aaron had not burned the place down. Indeed, he actually looked like he was glad to see us.

That, my friends, is art of the bovine variety

Thank you again dear church for allowing this gift of time away to study and reflect. It has been a gift to my mind, spirit, and body (I am hoping that all of this extra walking will work off all the pasta I am consuming).

There is a painting I saw for the first time a few afternoons ago by Caravaggio in the San Augustino Church. It is a piece depicting Mary presenting the Christ Child to two humble common folk. I have thought about that painting off and on since I was first introduced to it: the blessing Baby; the dirty feet of the villagers, and Mother Mary, barefoot too. Wherever we are – from Rome to Augusta – we are not much different or any better than those who humble themselves before God’s radiant gift of Presence. And when we do, we begin to see…

Peace be with you,

Italian TV before lights out