Beloved Community,
Travelling to Italy with Lisa during Holy Week and Easter was a delight. It was part pilgrimage, part vacation. Every moment of it, including our travel through Heathrow Airport, afforded us opportunities to glimpse God’s people, the wonder of nature, and the glory of our faith that is shared across language and culture, class and centuries.
Our time away allowed us to be unplugged from our devices, keeping us focused on each moment, whether it was an encounter with a stranger offering directions, a friendly guide on a trolley, or the front desk attendants at our hotel, eagerly offering directions or restaurant suggestions.
Rome has many ancient churches and basilicas, and we found ourselves praying in each one we visited. Mary was featured in all of them, as were many beloved Italian saints. Each day of Holy Week, I found myself thinking about all of you and wondering what your path of Holy Week was like. We attended Mass on Palm Sunday at the Basilica of St. Mary of the Angels and Martyrs, designed by Michelangelo and built in the 16th century. Even though we knew very little Italian, the liturgy was familiar to us. The priest blessed and handed out olive branches instead of palms, as is the custom in Italy. Those in attendance were older and were very devout in their prayers. As we left, an older woman sat on the stone floor at the doorway holding a rosary in her arthritic hand, begging for coins and blessing us as we passed by.
Everywhere we walked, God showed up in the people – from tattooed twenty-somethings with their fashionable clothes, young women pushing baby strollers, international tourists with their digital cameras, young African men peddling hand-carved bowls, selfie-sticks, or phone chargers; waiters in local restaurants graciously explaining the Italian on menus; families enjoying the hot springs in Saturnia; two young women having a moment at the Trevi Fountain as one proposed to the other.
Each day I found myself brought to tears at least once – overcome by the beauty of the people, the architecture, and the sweeping vistas in the mountains. And of course, there was music. On Palm Sunday evening we walked to St. Paul’s Within the Walls, the convocation of Episcopal Churches in Europe, and the oldest Protestant Church in Rome. We listened to Bach’s St. Matthew Passion, beautifully performed by St. Paul’s Choir, Camerata, Chamber Singers and various soloists. Again, I was brought to tears by the sheer beauty of the music, the time and place, and feeling connected to God’s people throughout the centuries who had worshipped at St. Paul’s and all who had glimpsed the divine in the exquisite music of Bach.
Our week in Tuscany showed us God’s grandeur in the sweeping vistas, the ancient villages on the sides of mountains, acre upon acre of olive trees and grape vines, and local flowers beginning to bloom. Our explorations led us to some “off the tourist path” treasures that were less-travelled. Leaving the gilded basilicas behind, I found refuge in two simple abbeys. Centuries old and simply designed, these places of worship revealed beautiful frescoes depicting the life of Christ, the saints, and of course, the beauty of nature. Gregorian chant filtered through these simple houses of prayer as we stopped to pray and felt so connected to our faith and to those who have gone before us.
Returning home and to Epiphany, I am filled with gratitude for our time away. My first week back reminded me how Epiphany reflects the love of God I felt so deeply while we were travelling. In the midst of such grief over the death of our dear friend Rick Marks, this Parish came together in so many ways to surround Rick’s family and friends with so much love and care. The compassion of the risen Christ was made manifest by the Choir, the Altar Guild, the Flower Guild, our Staff, and so many of you who attended to Eileen, Henry, Philip, and Rick’s family. What happened on that Saturday was such an outpouring of love – our coming together as a Parish family to commend to God one of our dearly beloved members.
God’s love cannot be contained. Not in this life or in death. I have seen it and felt it here and in our travels. God’s love is real – I’ve seen it in the faces of strangers and I see it every time I greet one of you.
Faithfully,
