What would you do if you had to spend 26 years in Rome by yourself?

Today’s session was a preparation for tomorrow’s “Lasallian pilgrimage through Rome.” Virtually simultaneous with De La Salle’s founding of the Brothers of the Christian Schools (1680), he sent a Brother – Gabriel Drolin to Rome (1702) for the twin purposes of establishing a school and, over time, preparing the way for Papal approval of the young religious congregation. While this topic may appear to be out of sync with the issues that we have been considering so far (the historical roots of the vow of Association, the understanding behind the choice of the word “Brother” to characterize the members of the new congregation and its significance in the changing world of the new millennium), in some ways it was a perfect “pit stop” for what we will be studying in the next several sessions (the growing understanding by successive General Chapters of the importance attached to including lay people in the “Shared Mission” of the Christian Brothers): even at an early stage of the Institute’s development, De La Salle was looking towards the future and what needed to be in place to ensure the Mission of providing a “human and Christian education for the young, especially the poor” would outlast him. Our presence at this special session of CIL is a modern expression of that same approach. By walking in the footsteps of Brother Gabriel Drolin, we can connect the challenges of a future only dimly perceived with the experience of the Founder over three hundred years ago. There isn’t room to go into all that we learned about Gabriel Drolin except to say that, by any measure, he was a remarkable man. Born 13 years after De la Salle, Drolin was one of the early participants (1684) in the Founder’s enterprise and quickly earned his trust and affection. He was one of two Brothers, along with De la Salle, who took the “Heroic Vow” (at a terribly low point in the enterprise, De La Salle and two of his most trusted Brothers vowed, in secret to remain together to ensure that the Institute would survive – even if they had to live on bread alone) in 1691 and was one of 12 Brothers who professed perpetual vows with De la Salle in 1694. In 1702, when it appeared that the Institute would survive, De La Salle sent Gabriel and another Brother to Rome. The second Brother lost heart and returned to France. Brother Gabriel remained in Rome for the next 26 years, returning only after the second objective – obtaining the Pope’s approval of the Institute – had been realized. We had only a short afternoon break so I took the opportunity to hop on the Metro to the Vatican, where I’m told, the only reliable postal service in Italy exists, and mailed some postcards. If you don’t get it before I return, blame the Pope. *It's not at all unusual to wander the streets of Rome and come across religious art work attached to public buildings - seemingly at random. This piece of art work- reminiscent of the Della Robbia style - is mounted on the corner of Banco Roma on Via Sistina.

He's not heavy, he's my Brother!

The word “Brother” occupied center stage in today’s presentation by John Cantwell. By the end of the day, it became clear to everyone what his intent was: to show how De La Salle intended the word to mean as applied to members of the Institute and to promote a conversation between and among the 70 of us as to how we will understand the term going forward. The first session was devoted to an analysis of De La Salle’s use of scripture quotations from the Gospel of Matthew. While this may seem an odd place to start, it made enormous sense by the end of the session. John provided an analysis of Matthew’s Gospel, showing that he used the word “brother” more than any of the other three Evangelists. Then John showed that, in his writings, De La Salle quoted the Gospel of Matthew more than any of the other Evangelists…the point being (remember De La Salle had a doctorate in theology) the Founder wanted to root his understanding of the term “brother” in Matthew’s Gospel so that those who read his writings would clearly understand the importance he attached to the concept. John gave us a quote from Canon Blain, De La Salle’s first biographer, who made this point beautifully:

In this way, the name Brothers of the Christian Schools became henceforth the official name of the children of De La Salle…This name teaches them the excellence of the duty they have assumed, the dignity of their state, and the holiness proper to their profession. It tells them as Brothers they owe each other mutual proofs of tender but spiritual friendship and that considering themselves as the elder brothers of the children who came to be taught by them; they should exercise this ministry of charity with truly loving hearts.

What does this have to do with the half of us not called “Brother?” John posed two challenging questions for us in the afternoon session:

In light of current circumstances:

What is the role of the ones who are named “Brother?”

What are the complementary roles of their brothers and sisters (in the Gospel sense: all those who accompany them – in this case, lay partners)?

When placed on top of yesterday’s session in which we looked at the vow of Association, the focus, at least for me, is becoming clear: how do we - Brothers and lay colleagues - work together to ensure the vision and charism of Saint John Baptist de La Salle is carried forward into an uncertain future?

Someone had the brilliant idea to go out for Chinese food tonight (yes – there are Chinese restaurants in Rome!). There’s only so much pasta one can eat! Ten of us trooped off to one just around the corner from the Motherhouse. Fortunately, Brother Andrew from Malaysia provided all the expertise we needed for ordering – which was especially important since the name of the restaurant was, disconcertingly, Hung Hwa Chinese Pizzeria (I think they stuck that in there to snare the Italians).

* Brother Vincent (Vietnam) Brother Bernie (Australia), Bill Gault (New York), Brother Ed (Midwest), Tina Bonacci ’94 (Midwest), Brother Jean-Marie(Congo) in front of Saint Paul Outside the Walls

To Associate or not...that is the question

We began our work in earnest today. Charlie Kitson distributed the results of the survey on “Association and Lasallian Family” that we had completed earlier. The context of this endeavor is important in order to understand the challenge we were asked to debate. Unique among religious orders, the Christian Brothers profess a vow of association – meaning that they commit themselves to support the Mission of the Institute (the “human and Christian education of the young, especially the poor”) wherever it sponsors ministries. This is more than “just” the vow of obedience, common to every religious order. The Christian Brothers commit themselves to supporting every school or ministry in their region not just the one they are assigned to. In this sense, it is not at all uncommon to hear the Brothers talk about “our” school in San Francisco or “our” school in Pasadena…as if they were assigned to that location. It’s a difficult concept to explain. What is not difficult is the deep emotional reservoir the concept of “Association” stirs up in the Brothers – it is (one of) their unique elements which distinguishes them from other religious communities and binds them together.

So, to talk about the concept of “Association” in a meeting of Lasallians in which half do not take on themselves the vow of “Association” is, to say the least, a challenge. The survey was an attempt to determine how this concept is understood in the various provinces around the world as they invite lay people to share the Mission ever more closely. Needless to say, the data was all over the place. It appeared that some regions have taken some steps towards including lay people under the umbrella of “Association” while others (the US/Toronto Region) have not. There was even greater diversity of opinion around the notion that some appropriate symbol of inclusion should be created so that lay people who feel so inspired by the charism of Saint John Baptist de La Salle would be offered, where appropriate. Good old practical Americans were largely of the opinion that things are fine the way they are now and that any notion of applying the Brothers’ concept of “Association” to lay people in our Region is best left to informal customs that make clear all are included in the Mission of the Institute.

I imagine this must seem very arcane and, in some ways, not unlike two bald men fighting over a comb. In reality, it is a very important issue and explains, in part, why we are spending a month together. The Brothers are very serious about “Sharing the Mission” and want to have confidence that, as we lay people become more responsible for the works entrusted to their care, the vision of De La Salle will remain steadfast now and in the future. This is all heady stuff – fortunately they have the custom of serving red wine at dinner (unfortunately, it comes in plastic pitchers).

* Ann and friend on the Piazza del Popolo

This is the place to be if your city is being sacked...

The rain has returned and is expected to last through the rest of the week. Tina Bonacci ’94 organized a day trip to the Medieval city of Orvieto in the Umbrian hills. There were 12 of us, speaking all three “official” languages. Her knowledge of Rome and its transportation system is invaluable. After a week I still get confused by the Metro. Not only did Tina get us to Termini (Rome’s amazing train station) via Metro but facilitated our purchase of tickets (a daunting task when the kiosk machine uses only Italian…and prompts for a series of responses in Italian) and negotiated the crowds to get us to the correct train – which did not list Orvieto but its final destination – Florence. Every visitor to Rome should experience Termini…it is an amazing place. It is as crowded as LAX or any major American airport. The interior looks as modern as any American airport and it bustles with as many people as one would ordinarily expect to find at Chicago’s O’Hare airport. The trains themselves are in very good condition and about as comfortable to sit in (or not) as American trains. The ride, however, was amazingly smooth (an experience I don’t typically associate with the few times I’ve been on an American train). The 90 minute trip zipped by and, before we knew it, we were in Orvieto. Tina ushered us through the process of buying a ticket on the Funicular and the connecting bus which would get us to the top of the plateau on which sits the medieval portion of Orvieto. We were instantly transported back in time (I know, cliché but true!) to the thirteenth century. We took the tour of the city’s underground caves (there are over 1200 of them, that archaeologists know of) which were carved out of the volcanic ash that covered the plateau over 200,000 years ago. They were used for a variety of purposes from the raising of pigeons (don’t ask), water storage, olive oil production and defense against siege. One fabulous example of this last purpose occurred during the sack of Rome in 1527 by the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V, Pope Clement VII fled Rome and took refuge at Orvieto (oh, those crazy Catholics!). We arrived a little late for mass in the “Duomo” – the city’s Cathedral…but the entertainment value was phenomenal! In this enormous church, there were, maybe, 100 people (locals apparently sat in the half-dozen pews directly under the transept, while tourists were relegated to orange plastic chairs lined into about two dozen rows farther back in the nave. The priest’s homily lasted a good 20 minutes and contained a fair amount of haranguing of the few people who appeared to understand him. As he was speaking a VERY elderly woman went from one pew to the next with what appeared to be a collection basket (it looked more like a hat to me and I DON’T want to know where it ultimately ended up). You could not receive the parish bulletin until you coughed up some coins and she clearly expected them to add up to more than a Euro. It’s important to understand the visual here. In the US, an usher passes a basket or a container on the end of a long arm, so as not to disturb the worshippers in the pew. This woman walked through each pew and expected you to get out of her way as she climbed over you. She was a little slow so that, by the time the consecration of bread and wine occurred, she was just getting to our pew. It was obvious that we were expected to remain standing until she had passed through. Mass over, Tina arranged for us to have lunch at a wonderful restaurant near the edge of the plateau. I had the best veal I’ve had in a long time. We also were treated to the local wine produced in the vineyards surrounding the plateau – une vera bont`a! The trip back was as pleasant as the earlier one and more than one head was nodding off soon after we left the train station.

Of Efficient Trains and Ugly Architecture

I decided to give my feet a day of rest today. Today is the last of the sunny days for the foreseeable future. I did get out and walk around the neighborhood - there's a wonderful permanent street market across from the Motherhouse - everything from butcher shops and green markets to household items...and even shoes. The neighborhood contained a number of green markets (in addition to the typical "super mercado") - a feature I haven't seen since I left NYC in 1981. While we have been doing a great deal of walking, Rome is not an easy city to walk about. The sidewalks are an afterthought, installed in many places centuries after the street was built and are typically narrow and uneven. Still the brief walkabout I did this morning reminded me of all the walking I used to do in NYC. Since this was "a day of rest" for me, I will take the time in this post to comment on Rome as a city (as opposed to "Rome as the center of the Catholic Church" or "Rome as a tourist attraction"). First, and most distressingly, it is a city covered in graffiti (with the exception of high end neighborhoods like those between the Piazza del Popolo and the Spanish Steps)...everywhere...even on the walls surrounding the Vatican (not, as you might imagine inside the walls of the Vatican). There doesn't appear to be any civic attempt at abatement - as one Brother said to me when I asked about the ubiquitous defacement of buildings, sidewalks, and walls: "This is Rome; people are still going to come here." The point, unfortunately, is a good one. Our American need for tidiness is no match for a municipality that has been around for thousands of years. To appreciate this point, I only need to be reminded of two things: first – that graffiti is as old as the Coliseum; second that the word graffiti is Italian in origin. I suppose that a practice as old as this, with a term coined by a language native to Rome means that this visitor is out of step with a world governed by a different set of values. The other thing that I found striking about our many walks about the city of Rome is that, outside of the neighborhoods surrounding the different monuments to past historical events, Rome is a city of apartment buildings – badly designed apartment buildings. I suppose, in one sense, that’s why – like NYC – the transportation system is so dependent upon trains and buses. And, while NYC has its own share of badly designed apartment buildings, on the whole, they are not nearly as brutally ugly as they are in Rome. The neighborhood around the Motherhouse is illustrative of this larger point. One can look in any direction and find one’s view blocked by four or five story buildings (by law, no building in Rome can exceed the height of Saint Peter’s Basilica) crammed next to each other and containing quite functional but aesthetically ugly apartments. This is true of every neighborhood beyond a tourist attraction. This isn’t to say that the neighborhoods associated with tourist attractions are shaped by a Disneyesque attempt at recreating the past – rather these buildings are the past and reflect the elegant design principles of a different era. Mussolini may have been successful in making the trains run on time, but his impact on urban architecture has been altogether less savory.

It's Time to Get to Work...

In today’s session Brother John Cantwell (Australia) picked up where Charlie Kitson left off; using the Declaration as the basis for his presentation. One of the major themes of CIL this year is the recognition of the 40th anniversary of the Declaration’s publication (full title: The Brother of the Christian Schools in the World Today: a Declaration). The document, published immediately after the Second Vatican Council, was an effort to respond to the Council’s call for “aggiornamento” (renewal) of religious life. One of the major themes of the Declaration was the promotion of lay involvement in the work of the Brothers. At the time of its publication, there were more than 10,000 Christian Brothers worldwide so, in a sense, the notion of including lay people in their work was more a function of philosophy than logistics (as late as 1973, there were 28 Christian Brothers on the staff of my Lasallian high school). In that sense this initiative was rather groundbreaking. In 1967 no one knew what would happen to membership in religious orders over the course of the next forty years. John asked us to compare a statement from the Declaration calling for full lay involvement at all levels of the school with a statement from Brother Alvaro, the Superior General at the opening of the first International Assembly of Brothers and lay partners convened in 2006. My reading of the two documents suggested that, over the course of forty years, the Brothers have moved from including lay people to welcoming us as full partners in sharing the Mission of Saint John Baptist de La Salle. The afternoon session built on this theme and then turned its attention to the two outcomes we are expected to produce over the course of the next three weeks: to develop a statement regarding what we would like to share with the Lasallian world about the future of De La Salle’s charge to provide a “human and Christian education to the young, especially the poor.”; and to develop a “project” that we can bring back to our Districts/Regions which will continue the work begun here in Rome. It looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us… This photo was taken in Saint Peter's Basilica. The thirty largest cathedrals in the world can fit inside Saint Peter's. Engraved in the floor (in order of length) from shortest (Saint Patrick's in New York at 101.9 meters) to longest (Saint Paul's in London at 158.10). The Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels in Los Angeles (at 120.62 meters) is about in the middle. Saint Peter's Basilica (the largest cathedral in the world) clocks in at 186.36 meters) For another view of our experience here in Rome – check out Tina Bonacci ’94 and her blog at: http://tinabonacci.blogspot.com/

Pilgrim or Tourist?

I was of the opinion that, in today’s milieu, there isn’t much of a difference between going on a tour (as in “tourist”) and going on pilgrimage (as in “pilgrim”). Today proved me wrong. The schedule called for us to be grouped by language and then to visit one or two churches on our way to the Basilica of Saint Paul Outside the Walls. Our group took the Metro to Santa Maria del Popolo – so called because the money for its construction was raised by the people of Rome. It became a favorite burial place for wealthy Romans, which is reinforced by the neighborhood (Piazza del Popolo) in which it is located. Located in the church are two magnificent Caravaggios – one of the Crucifixion of Saint Peter and the other of the Conversion of Saint Paul. I found the latter to be particularly striking. Paul is on the ground, the horse looming over him. The light is concentrated on Paul’s face which is in agony. I also thought the Augustinians (who operate the church) were quite clever in their approach to raising the necessary funds to maintain these magnificent paintings…the light in the side chapel where they are contained is operated by inserting a certain amount of coins in a box next to the switch. From there we made our way to the Basilica Church of San Silvestro in Capite which contains what is said to be the skull of Saint John the Baptist (a pious if somewhat gruesome display). We gathered near the sanctuary for the first of two prayer services (the next one will be at Saint Paul’s). What struck me about this point in the pilgrimage was the shared sense that what we were doing was “right and just” to quote the Psalmist. I can’t imagine a similar sense of comfort were we to repeat this moment in, say, Saint Patrick’s Cathedral in New York. I became aware of a certain sense that, in Rome, these churches may have been built for many – and not always noble – reasons, but now they are for pilgrims like us who want to be reminded of the reasons we are Catholic and seek a deeper experience of faith. This insight became even stronger when we arrived at Saint Paul’s.

Built over the tomb of Saint Paul the Apostle, the Basilica is one of the most astonishing churches I have ever seen. Smaller than Saint Peter’s its floor plan is clearly designed to impress and awe. It was destroyed by fire in the early 1800s and its reconstruction clearly reflected the architectural values of the nineteenth century. It is more monument than church, but (unlike Saint Peter’s) it is an amazingly prayerful place. Groups are allowed entry a few at a time – which supports the prayerful atmosphere. The grave of Saint Paul is located directly beneath the transept of the church. Its excavation resulted in a below grade shrine which requires the pilgrim to descend a series of semi-circular steps. It (barely) accommodated the seventy of us and what took place then was one of the most amazingly prayerful experiences I have ever encountered. We listened to a reading from the Epistles of Saint Paul as well as to the recitation of psalm verses in all three “official” languages, and then a reading from De La Salle’s first Meditation for the Time of Retreat. As this was happening, the next group of pilgrims had arrived and stood above us observing our prayer. I had the same sense I had at San Silvestro – this was a perfectly appropriate thing to be doing at this moment in time. As we prayed and sang together, I looked up to the magnificent ornate ceiling and found myself noting that – unlike any other church we had visited so far – the elegance of this church made sense in light of its homage to the Apostle to the Gentiles.

As we left the Basilica I found myself unusually quiet – the entire experience was so unexpected (remember my “thing” about tourism) that I was overwhelmed by the various thoughts and feelings bouncing around in my heard. That moment was short-lived as we boarded the #918 bus for what would prove to be the bus-ride from hell (there’s a theme emerging here). I’ve tried to keep these posts brief but today’s experience was simply too complex to do so.