The Gifts of Travel
In the spring of 2005 I studied abroad for three months with my best friends, our home base in London, England, specifically the beautiful neighborhood of Muswell Hill. Almost every weekend we had the opportunity to travel to a different European country and explore. I am indebted to my parents for this opportunity, because they gave me a credit card with what seemed like an endless limit (it was not) and told me to explore and learn. One of the most memorable trips was to Italy with my friend Katherine. Katherine had a family friend who lived in Florence and invited us to stay with her there. I cannot tell you how excited I was to see the Duomo and the Ponte Vecchio bridge that I had studied in art history. One day, we took the train to Rome. We had just one day to explore the city. I will tell you it wasn’t built in a day but you can hit the highlights….if you move quickly.
Pope John Paul II had recently died, and Pope Benedict XVI had recently been chosen as the new pope. As fate would have it, our trip coincided with the first weekend the Vatican was open to visitors once again. Katherine and I headed toward the Vatican upon disembarking from our train, insistent upon visiting the St. Peter’s. When we got to St. Peter’s Square I was surprised there were not too many tourists milling about there. We headed to the outer wall of the compound where we saw a line forming to enter the Vatican for a tour. I was desperate to see the Sistine Chapel. We wondered where the entrance was and how long we could expect to wait, not knowing if we could buy tickets in advance, etc. We walked along, passing at least 100 people. We turned the corner. The queue extended beyond our line of sight. Hundreds of people were already waiting early in the morning to enter the building. I could feel my heart sinking. There was so much more of the city to see…we didn’t want to miss out on other opportunities by waiting in this line all day. Determined to find out how long we would wait we began walking up the row of people. About halfway up what was at least two city blocks, we saw two middle aged women who were clearly American. We knew they were American before we spoke to them, they were wearing windbreakers and sporting Vera Bradley purses which were all the rage at the time. We stopped to speak to them, maybe they knew how long the process would take.
As it turns out these two women were from the Midwest, they were Catholic and visiting Rome on a church trip. They invited us to get into the queue with them! They told us they had two teenage daughters who were back at home and they were missing the girls’ prom night. I think perhaps Katherine and I were a balm to their mother hearts. When I told them that I was planning to go to seminary after graduation from Hollins they said, “Oh our priest is here with us, you must let him bless you!” We took the whole tour through the hallways filled with tapestries and ornate artwork with these ladies. We walked into the Sistine Chapel, hours ahead of when we would have entered otherwise, and just stood in awe. I was in a room filled with people, but for once my short stature didn’t prevent me from viewing the main event, all I had to do was look up.
I stood for some time studying the image of God and Adam reaching for each other and someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was one of our new friends, she had found her priest and wanted to introduce me. I will never forget it, standing in that historical place, hands placed upon my head, and a Catholic Priest blessing me in the name of our Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. It was as if the room grew quiet and movement stopped. Our encounter was perhaps only a minute long, but I will never forget it. How wonderfully sacred…and ecumenical. To be given such care from a stranger and yet a companion from home, also on a pilgrimage. I was blessed in the place where St. Peter’s legacy dwells. The rock on whom the church was built…where I was also now able to stand and witness the power of thousands of years of Christian faith and thought.
Later in the afternoon we arrived at the Roman Colosseum; another place I never thought I’d see in person. As we walked through the arches I called my mother and told her about the amazing events of the day. “Mom, I am standing IN the Colosseum right now!” As I hung up the phone and turned back to the incredibly large pit, I remembered how many Christians were likely tortured and killed in that space as criminals, martyred for their faith while crowds jeered and cheered as if it were sport.
To say that the day was humbling for me is an understatement. In the span of one day, I witnessed both the amazing feats of human ingenuity as well as the cost of power and enormous wealth. But in the center of all of that history swirling, I also experienced human kindness and generosity. You truly never know what you will find when you travel outside of your comfort zone… but I think, perhaps, God sends little winks to you, or perhaps a few midwestern angels to give you courage.