Sunday, January 20, 2008
Saturday, January 19, 2008
We passed up going into the Colosseum, instead went to the Baths of Caracalla on a beautiful Saturday morning, sat on a bench silently looking out at the colossal ruins and the umbrella pines and our imagination ran wild in the ancient past.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
It was in a small church. Two young girls with knapsacks walked up the aisle, genuflected, entered the pew. Bowing their heads they knelt before the Sacramant in motionless prayer. Seeing them doing that made me feel closer to You there than anywhere else in all of Rome.
Her head bent, looking at her misery she holds on her lap. She is composed. She accepts, she consents. It seems as if she has breathed out, her heartbeat diastolic. She is all inward, she is weightless. Michaelangelo has focused all her sorrow in her face. In capturing her suffering he has made a universal image of the noble beauty that only suffering can bring about.
Monday, January 14, 2008
It was a lavish sculpture, four persons depicted: Jesus Christ at the back, St. Peter and St. Paul in front of Him, then the Pope whose monument it was out in front, kneeling, facing me. I stood there for a long while pondering what that monument was trying to say.
Entering in on this space literally took my breath away. Utterly amazed at the magnitude of the proportions, the lavish extravagance of this church. It is the work of men's hands: a Michelangelo, a Raphael, a Bernini, a Bramante. The overwhelming power of their art shook me as I stood there, just another spectator, on a small square of marble.