Traditions That Are Not My Own

Hello everyone!  The craziest thing just happened in my life, although it probably happened in yours as well--May came!  In 18 days (that's just over two weeks?!) I will be cursing Delta's delays and crossing the pond once more.  I heard it was in the high 50s this week in Michigan.  Great.

Anyways, the past two weekends have been interesting.  April 24, as you all know was Pasqua (Easter).  This year was the first of my life that I didn't wake up to a pink Easter basket filled with either green or purple grass.  I didn't go to my beloved Pentecost for breakfast.  I didn't place my hand over my five-year-old handprint on the apron I made for my dad--the one he wears every year as he butters toast in the church kitchen.  You can always tell who the newbies are because they wear the aprons with "Pentecost" printed on the front; they haven't brought their own.  I didn't get to say "He is risen indeed! Alleluia!" with the men and women who taught me in Sunday school and helped forge a strong faith in me.  I briefly considered going to a Catholic mass, but it wouldn't really have been a celebration of the resurrection, just another culture study.  

Instead, I headed over the the church that I try to attend when I'm in Rome on Sunday mornings: Rome Baptist.  I'm not Baptist nor am I entirely crazy about the pastor there, but it's in English and I feel that those who come worship in earnest.  It's sort of a passing through place--because it's English speaking, many people who are here for only a few years come, many students studying abroad like myself come, and there are always a decent number of people just visiting Rome for a week or two attend  There are no small town politics involved, no family legacies, no craning necks to see if the high school floozy showed up this week.  People, for the most part, are there simply to go to church.  While I didn't get to celebrate in the sanctuary I grew up in, I did get to worship with people from Guatemala, the Philippines, Scotland, Kenya, England, Australia, and the States. It was a group of people unlike one I have ever been in church with and it was wonderful.  

It turned out to be a beautiful day so I sat in the park and did some writing, then wandered over to my favorite gelato place.  I passed through Piazza Navona (where St. Agnes was beheaded-I freaked out.  So much church history underneath my $20 Target sandals!) and this is what I saw:

Sorry that the quality is so poor.  It was hilarious and quite impressive.  The older gentleman, as you can see, was playing the accordion on a bike that was on rollers.  Even more astounding was the fact that I walked up while he was playing, stood there for a good 5 minutes, and then walked away, and he never stopped playing.  Only in Italy. 

This past Sunday, as many of you know, was the beatification of Pope John Paul II (I'm not entirely sure what all of it means; I heard from some it makes him a saint and from others that it's a step in becoming a saint.  Dictionary.com says that is is a declaration that a person is among the blessed and it's the first step to canonization. It also offered all in attendance forgiveness of sin).  At one point, it was estimated that 3 million people were going to be coming to Rome for the event.  It turned out that only about 1.5 million (only-ha) went to the Holy See for the ceremony.  2 star hotels were charging 250 Euro a night (with the exchange rate, that's about 370 USD).  I toyed with the idea of not attending; I knew it was going to be crowded, but I felt like I couldn't be in Rome as this happened and not go.  So, Gemma and I left our neighborhood around 8:00am and headed over to the Vatican.  Getting there was pretty epic and included hopping a fence and Gemma nearly fistfighting with a member of the Vatican police.

If you've not ever seen what the Vatican City looks like, please Google it now, it will make things a lot easier.  So, there is the circular piazza that is right outside the building of the Vatican, and then there is a road that leads straight out from that.  After moving with the crowd for about 20 minutes, we ended up about 1/2 way down that street, which was way beyond what I had envisioned.  We had a great view of one of the screens and if I leaned over and squinted, I could make out the area where the pope was sitting in his throne (can I call it that?).  People had camped out all night and come from all over the world.  We talked to a man who was from Vancouver, Canada and got to the Vatican at 4:00am, which was silly, because we ended up with a much better spot than him.  

The ground was covered in paper.

There were so many people.

No picture from my point and shoot camera can do the masses justice.

People people people.

Me and Gem.  Doing our thing.

These folks were keeping it classy. The one in the flannel was eating a Slim Jim on a slice of bread and the one in the green was eating baby food out of a jar.

 The current pope, Pope Benedict XVI came out on his popemobile with the casket of Pope John Paul II on the front.  A man read the achievements of John Paul II, Benedict said some stuff in Latin, and it was done in about half an hour, which surprised me.

The screen. I wonder if this made Pope Benedict feel bad about himself.

So, Pope John Paul II was beatified and then Gemma looked at me and said, "I think they are going to do a whole mass.  We can stay if you want to, but I'm good."  So, we started heading out.  And this is where is got really interesting.  For a while, we were able to sneak our way through the people with a bit of squeezing and apologizing; then we came across a group of people that just refused to let us through.  At one point, I was able to sneak behind a man, but then he backed into the person behind him and started yelling, "Basta! Basta! (meaning enough or stop) at Gemma.  Gemma was saying that she was with me and had to get through and he just refused to move.  Obviously, we are not big people barreling through.  All we need is a bit of space and we can sneak by, but he was not having it.  It would have been easier for him to just lean forward for two seconds.  Gemma started feeling sick because of all the people, so we were trying to hurry and a woman snapped at me so I told her my friend was sick (in Italian!) and she said something nasty back.  It made no sense to me--it's like all of these people were surprised and annoyed that there was a big crowd at the event they were at.  The charitable and loving spirit of Pope John Paul II was abounding.  He would have been so proud. 

Please note that the last two sentences were sticky with sarcasm.

Finally, finally, we made it out and walked home.  The street and next two bridges were crammed with people, which is maybe a mile?  I don't really know.  I know it was far.  We came across this stereotypical fellow as well.  He made me happy.

A fat monk, sittin' on a wall, next to his pink and green backpack.  Life is good.

Being Lutheran, it was an interesting look into Catholic culture.  And it certainly makes for a good story to save for my grandkids.

I hope you are all feeling spring and enjoying some sunshine.  See you soon!