One year ago this week I boarded the first of two airplanes that
took me to Calcutta, India. I traveled with a dozen or so others to
volunteer for two weeks with Mother Teresa’s Missionaries of
Charity, on what the priest who runs this annual trip called, “a
marvelous pilgrimage.”
As a pampered physical coward and dedicated xenophobe who had
vowed never to step foot outside the USA, I faced the trip with
some trepidation. We’d all heard stories about the “black hole” of
Calcutta and seen images of the filth and squalor that dominate the
lives of the “poorest of the poor” who live there; and we were not
disappointed. Anyone who thinks they have seen real poverty or lack
of respect for human dignity in America would do well to visit
Calcutta.
Thankfully, the workday — which in my case was spent at Daya
Dan, a home for physically and mentally handicapped orphans — was
book-ended by morning Mass and an evening holy hour before the
Blessed Sacrament with the sisters, which afforded a welcome
spiritual refuge from the insanity that is daily life in Calcutta.
Indeed, without these moments of grace, their mission of charity
would be next to impossible.
I had these things on my mind last week as I boarded the plane
that would take me to the seat of the Catholic Church, the eternal
city of Rome. I felt a twinge of guilt, knowing that while this
year’s group of pilgrims was wending its way toward the slums of
Calcutta, I was on my way to one of the most beautiful cities on
earth. Was there any beauty in Calcutta?
By a strange set of circumstances, my local pastor, a learned
monsignore on a well-deserved sabbatical in Rome, was our
official Vatican guide for what is known as the Scavi Tour: a walk through the underground
necropolis three stories beneath St. Peter’s Basilica, where you
can actually view the remains of history’s most famous
fisherman.
Much of Rome is of a multi-layered nature. The easily missed
Basilica of San Clemente is a treasure-trove of
history. The current basilica is a twelfth-century edifice built
over a fourth-century structure that itself was erected above a
first-century house church, once owned by the Roman consul and
martyr, Titus Flavius Clemens. This first building was later used
as a Mithrian Temple, and all three levels are available for
touring.
Taking in the beauty and enormity of the Catholic presence in
Rome could likely fill a pilgrim’s plate for a lifetime, but in the
short space of ten days I was able to feast on breath-taking works
of religiously-inspired masters, too numerous to count. (And before
you History Channel buffs armed with your DaVinci decoder-rings
begin your tales that Michelangelo and friends had doubts about the
faith, mistresses and what have you, remember; that’s why Catholic
churches have what we call confessionals.)
As I trekked from huge basilica to tiny church, my head was
often left spinning, trying to digest the splendor of the priceless
paintings, frescoes, statuary and architecture surrounding me. It
was a difficult chore at times, to remember that these countless
masterpieces were dedicated to the glory of God and to honor his
servants and martyrs, and not merely to be enjoyed for their own
sake.
This task was more easily accomplished out on the streets of the
city where one can still find numerous edicole, or little
shrines to the Blessed Virgin Mary, on the walls of various
buildings, some surrounded by notes of petition and thanks. Or by
watching pilgrims on their knees ascend the Scala Sancta,
or Holy Stairs, which, according to tradition, are the
steps that once lead to Pontius Pilate’s praetorium at Jerusalem
and were brought to Rome in 326 AD by St. Helena, mother of the
emperor Constantine. This, for Christians, is an experience not to
be missed, for it is an undertaking of pure love.
Pope Benedict XVI has written of this love between God and man, “God
does not demand of us a feeling which we ourselves are incapable of
producing. He loves us, he makes us see and experience his love,
and since he has ‘loved us first’, love can also blossom as a
response within us….Only if I serve my neighbour can my eyes be
opened to what God does for me and how much he loves me.”
And this love is the real beauty which is present in the
dazzling naves and chapels in Italy, as well as the Leprosy Centre run by the Brothers of Charity in
Titagarh, India. It is in Bernini’s Ecstasy of St. Teresa
(of Avila) and wholly evident in the life of her namesake, Blessed
Mother Teresa. Rome and Calcutta; two destinations, one
journey.
