This is Not All in My Head

Today, I have been pondering my relationship with God-- do I really love him, do I really believe (and do I believe him to be a truly loving God)? And, if the answers are "yes," then why am I here in Rome-- why should I, of all people, possess this opportunity? But, this isn't an "opportunity" per se-- for, opportunity either means something given by chance or something given because it was deserved. Well, I'm a sinner-- a pretty bad one at that-- and I really don't deserve this opportunity. So too, if I answered "yes" to my above God questions, then I cannot believe in chance. Thus, I am in a bit of a quandry: I have been given an undeserved and purposeful opportunity. I have been given a gift.

And, again, if I answer "yes" to belief in a loving God, then (coupled with my above conclusions) I have been given a gift out of sheer love. Like a love-letter or roses to Valerie (or whomever your significant other is), this gift is freely given. It is given out of love, for love, by love, and with the hope that it will be reciprocated, either to Him who gives and is love, or to those He created out of love. Thus, "to those who are given much, much is expected."

I, who have been given so much, must give so much-- and not merely in return (as in payment), but out of love. Motivated by love itself, I must love. The spring of life which I receive not just by being here in Rome, but in the EUCHARIST-- this spring of life which never leaves one thirsty-- I must allow to flow, to bubble over, and to spill out onto all. This food is real food and this drink is real drink-- whoever eats of it will never hunger, whoever drinks of it will never thirst.

This gift, of Rome, of the Eucharist, of Christ himself-- and for me, mind you!-- must be given in return and given out of love; it mut be motivated by love, by God, namely: the Holy Spirit. I proclaim, then, from the window of my room, to all the Roman forum and to all the world: "COME HOLY SPIRIT!"

This is U2

I so often have songs flying around in my head, like butterflies waiting for my net of concentration to grab them and post them on a board for all to see. So it goes with these songs-- sometimes I catch on and I cannot let it go; I cannot help from singing it.

Today, it is U2's "One." I'm sure most of you know it, but it was the song that was playing as I posted the next entry (see This is Not All in My Head). Enjoy.

Is it getting better, or do you feel the same?
Will it make it easier on you, now you got someone to blame?
You say one love, one life, when it's one need in the night.
One love, we get to share it. Leaves you baby if you don't care for it.

Did I disappoint you or leave a bad taste in your mouth?
You act like you never had love and you want me to go without.
Well, it's too late tonight to drag the past out into the light.
We're one, but we're not the same. We get to carry each other, carry each other...

Have you come here for forgiveness,
Have you come to raise the dead
Have you come here to play Jesus to the lepers in your head?

Did I ask too much, more than a lot
You gave me nothing, now it's all I got.
We're one, but we're not the same.
Well, we hurt each other, then we do it again.

You say love is a temple, love a higher law
Love is a temple, love the higher law.
You ask me to enter, but then you make me crawl
And I can't be holding on to what you got, when all you got is hurt.

One love, one blood, one life, you got to do what you should.
One life with each other: sisters, brothers.
One life, but we're not the same.
We get to carry each other, carry each other.
One, one.

This is How You Should Feel in Rome

Somehow, everything is within your reach: history, dreams, even the clouds. With over 300 churches in Rome and 2000 years of ancient buildings (not to mention 120 flavors at a local gellati establishment), there is a lot to do. Ultimately, you must get lost in your dreams while in Rome, take that street that leads to some unknown beyond. Today I did that and I found myself on a movie set, being "asked" by police (in hand-waving Italian, of course) to remove my American hide from the cinamatographer's sight.

I always wanted to be in a movie...

Statue outside "our" Basillica of Cosmas and Damian.

This is One Happy Man

What you cannot see are my eyes, red and puffy from a lot of crying while inside St. Peter's. In a few days, I shall post pictures from the inside of this amazing place. But, first, I must tell of just the experience of "being there."

The beauty therein cannot be adequately described nor adequatedly pictured via camera. It just has to be experienced. Here is what I can say, though: St. Peter is there. The Chair of St. Peter is there. Jesus in the Sacrament Most Holy is there. Bernini's rosary-- forever sealed in one of the pillars as he cast it-- is there. The Pieta-- the passion, the mother, and the mercy-- are there. The "vertical" and the "horizontal" dimensions of the faith are physically there, represented in architecture and painting. The doctrine of the Catholic faith-- if ever it was intangible-- is made wholly real. Here, it is impossible to see God as anything but GOD.

It was so beautiful that I swore I understood the faith completely and that I was in heaven. Everything made sense. History was connected. But, unlike the ancient ruins of Rome where I felt just a connectivity to the past, here at St. Peter's I felt, in addition, a connectivity to the future. I am a part of THIS CHURCH. And so that I might partake in the joys of the Church Triumphant (that is, the Church "Future"), I must do my best in the Church Militant (that is, the Church "Now"). This is happiness-- a grace.

Where there is true beauty and true happiness (although sometimes accompanied by tears), there is God-- there is mission.

This is the Vatican

And St. Peter's Square, the physical heart of the Church on Earth. On my hurried (and once lost) way to 5pm Mass, I passed through the Square, and it's bowl-like shape. Like the arms of the Church reaching out to the world, the pillars surrounding the Square reach out into the Roman city. This is where the pope so often addresses the people-- this is where millions have celebrated Mass (from daily to canonizations to Easter). Here, here is where the Church shines triumphant and powerful, universal and motherly, earthly yet eternal.

And that small triangular thing next to St. Peters: that would be the Sistine chapel.

This is How You Cross the Street

First, you don't look both ways before crossing the street. Why? Because you already know a car or a scooter is going to be there. Second, you find those hallowed white lines on the street. If you can't find them, you are like a dog without its boy, a cart without its horse, a man without his wife, and other various imagery. Third, you begin to cross and keep the same pace all the way to the next curb. Fourth, when in doubt: RUN!!!!

Amy, Lisa, Peter, and Steve, crossing at quite possibly THE busiest intersection in all of Rome: The Piazza Venetia.

This is Me

Don't I look cute?

So yeah, that ends the Pre-trip and Day 1 section of my Blog. A lot more (with a little less verbiage) on the way!!! Check back soon!

This is My Backyard

As this picture from my room points out, this is quite literally my backyard: the Roman Forum and the Via Sacra. This was THE major road in Rome (besides the Appian Way)-- and I live on it. Those white things in the bottom of the picture: yeah, those are the Vestal Virgins.

This is My Room

On the middle floor, there, at the end, in the buidling on the left-- thats where I live. And that domed building you see in the back is the Basillica of Cosmas and Damian. It's attached to my home by an incredible courtyard, which I get a picture of in a bit.

The residence is incredibly old, and the basillica even more so-- as it was once the Temple of Romulus. So, yeah, ancient. But, nevertheless, my room is very modern, with every modern convenience.

These are the Alps

Alright, so I left my home in Steubenville, Ohio, and made my way to La Madonna Della Salute, in Roma, Italy. In all, the trip took 24 hours-- from when I left my home to my arrival. In between, I saw some pretty cool stuff. In landing at JFK (with a lot of turbulance, might I add), I saw the islands off of the New York coast-- but no sign of New York City (alas).

The flight across The Pond was six hours of ugliness. Besides flying at night (which allowed for no sight-seeing whatsoever, even if it would have been just the ocean for six hours), the flight was really rocky. This wasn't a side-to-side turbulance, but a "drop" and lose your stomach sort of turbulance. Not fun at all when you think you're going to toss your cookies. I skipped dinner and tried to get some sleep.

Haha, not a chance. When the plane stopped being obnoxious, the 4-year-old in the row next to me decided to take up the helm. Everyone wanted to sleep, for our movie was "Wimbledon" (what the heck!?!?) and alcohol was $4 a glass. People wanted to kill the kid. And, I did too for a bit. I flew with one of my friends from Steubenville-- Steve-- and he put things in perspective: "thank God for that kid's lungs."

We landed in Paris, France-- in the dark (alas)-- and went through customs. That went something like this:

"Dockoooments?"

--- "Oui." (pull out my passport)

"Go ahead."

That was it. No major security check, no claiming of anything, no questions about where I was going. Just, "go right on ahead, help yourself to our country." And the only Anti-American sentiment I got was when I showed my passport to the flight agent taking tickets. She took my passport with a grin and a few pleasant French words-- but then her attitude changed dramatically as she saw that I was American. She slapped down my passport on the ticket counter with a dirty look, slid it back across the counter for me to take, and waved me onto the plane. Spikey French.

The flight from Paris to Rome was pretty short-- about 2 hours-- and the breakfast pastries were REALLY GOOD. It was cloudy the entire flight, except for a brief few seconds when we crossed the most western section of the Alps. Here's what I saw:

Pretty awesome. And if that's the most western section-- and therefore not necessarily the tallest peaks-- I'm curious as to what Switzerland looks like. I'm so going there.

In our descent to land, the clouds lifted a little and I saw the countryside of Italy-- very rural, very agricultural, very pleasant. This too, I will explore more.

In Rome, the drive from the airport to my home in downtown Rome (the Roman Forum, to be exact) was exciting. Italian drivers are crazy, as you might expect, but even crazier than I ever was. This is an indescribable experience. And, just to be clear, I did not drive.

When we started passing the ancient ruins, most notably, the Collesseum, I nearly cried. It is so beautiful here and so ancient. Somehow, in this place, the connectedness of history is in its most tangible form. You cannot escape the fact that you are at a place where famous, historical events took place. In passing the Collesseum, I passed THE COLLESSEUM with all of its history attached. And somehow I became a part of that history. I no longer was an isolated point on a piece-meal timeline. Rather I was a point among an interconnected series of points, ranging from present to the entirety of the past, resting on a vibrant timeline.

This is Val

I am embarrassing my girlfriend right now, but she receives the first entry in my journal; for, before a guy departs for a foreign land, he must say "goodbye" to those he loves. Of course, to quote C.S. Lewis: "A Christian never says goodbye." No matter what I post in the next four months, this picture is my favorite. For, although Rome is an incredible opportunity for me-- an incredible sign of God's love-- greater beyond that is His gift of human love. In love, I give Him thanks.

I love you, babe!