All Roads Lead to Rome...

All roads may lead to Rome but that doesn’t mean the bus lines within the City make any sense. Today’s conference schedule called for two sessions – one in the morning and one at 4:30 PM. With lunch at 1:00 pm (dinner is at 7:30 PM), there was only a short window of two hours to see anything. Ann Merchlewitz from Saint Mary’s, Winona and I decided to take the Metro to Saint Peter’s and walk to Castel Sant'angelo – Hadrian’s Tomb turned into the Pope’s fortress. It was a brilliantly sunny day, which caused the memory of the last three days of rain to immediately fade. We arrived at the Castel safely enough, climbed to the top of the fortress to get a million dollar view of the City of Rome. The return, however, was a little more adventurous than either Ann or I had anticipated. We decided to take the #46 bus (the one I took the other day) rather than the subway. All was well until Ann spied the sign for the McDonald’s (which is located directly east of the Motherhouse). Unfortunately, the bus took a left turn before reaching the fast food stop and sent us well into foreign territory. We got off as soon as we could and made our way back to the nearest bus stop going in the opposite direction; got on the #49 which was headed towards Via Aurelia and prayed that we would get to where we needed to be. Fortunately we guessed correctly and other than experiencing more drama than the sunny day deserved, got back in time for the 4:30 PM session. At that session we (finally) learned the primary purpose of our presence at CIL. Brother Charles Kitson, newly appointed Secretary for the Lasallian Family and Association, explained that the most recent General Chapter set as an Institute priority defining the context within which Brothers and lay partners (like me) work together to further the Lasallian Mission. Charlie noted that there are a variety of movements throughout the Institute (read “world”) that are reflective of the charism and vision of Saint John Baptist de La Salle. His focus for the next six years is to support these opportunities and create connections between and among them. The addition of 30 lay people to the CIL experience is intended to be one of several steps that will move this initiative forward. I suspect we’ll learn more about this as the month unfolds.

I feel compelled to comment on the use of the term "Lasallian Family". Most people who have heard me talk about La Salle, Pasadena, know that I am fond of using the word "family" to describe the environment that our administrators, teachers, students and parents create on a daily basis. To learn that the same metaphor is being used at the Center of the Institute encourages me to look at the world we create at La Salle as one that is reflective of the larger Lasallian world we occupy. I am looking forward to learning more about how this metaphor is used by those responsible for the world-wide Institute.

* The picture is taken from the top of Castel Sant'angelo. Visible in the center is the Victor Emmanuel Monument (called the "wedding cake"). To the left of it is the Pantheon (round, flattened dome)

Of Conga Lines & Forced Marches

Today’s forced march was led by Brother Bernard from Australia. He had clearly put the previous three months to good use as he was extraordinarily knowledgeable about the sites we visited. We took the bus to the Piazza Navona (public transportation in Rome is an extremely convenient, if hair-raising experience) said to be Rome’s most iconic plaza; it was merely a stopping off point for our main objective – the Pantheon. A better temple than church (it was Christianized in the 7th century), the draw is the semi-sphere domed ceiling and oculus (circular opening in the center) built of brick somewhere around 125 AD. I was stunned by the thought of how it was constructed without anything more sophisticated than ropes, pulleys, and wood ramps. The rain pouring through the oculus made for an interesting indoor water fall.

We made our way to the Trevi Fountain where a packed crowd were throwing coins over their shoulders like drunken sailors. Since it took almost 30 years for me to return to Rome after the last time I threw coins (as I recall, I only threw one and not the requisite three - that may explain a lot), I decided fate was as good as chance in a future return to the Eternal City.

Jeff, the principal of Saint Johns in DC and a Jesuit alum, was interested in the nearby church of Saint Ignatius. Its trompe l’oeil ceiling was astonishing. It took several minutes for me to realize that a cherub’s foot was only painted on the ceiling and not actually dangling 100 feet above me. We ended our “march” at the Spanish Steps, which of course, we climbed. By this point, my feet were in open rebellion, as we headed to the subway and back to the Motherhouse.

That evening the “Cilists” threw a welcome party for us in one of the basement rooms of the Motherhouse. We were greeted with the request to wear a Mardi Gras mask (I didn’t) and a colored square piece of paper with a name on it. The goal was to “discover” the other person by matching the colored square and name. I managed to look busy as the chaos ensued and was relieved when the exercise ended. I scored a beer (warm) and one of the chairs that lined the walls of the room (the center was left open – I presume – for the dancing that was sure to follow). Tim Tarmey found his way to the chair next to me where we proceeded to catch up after 20 years. This idyll was ended when, in a burst of enthusiasm, one of the Spanish participants threw confetti in my face and dragged me to the dance floor where a rather unsuccessful Conga line was attempting to snake its way around the room. As soon as the Spaniard turned her back to join the Conga line, I bolted for the exit and the quiet of my room.

Aqui Estoy , Senor

If nothing else leaves a lasting impact on me as a result of this experience in Rome, it will be my encounter with people from North & South America, Europe, Australia, the Middle East and Africa. I was struck by the variety of languages being spoken at meals. With more than 70 participants in this program, dinner can begin to resemble the Biblical story of the Tower of Babel. This morning's opening session was particularly striking because of the availability of instantaneous translation. Booths in the back of the "CIL" Conference Room provided space for translation services in English, Spanish and French. It was fascinating to observe how quickly the translators followed the words of the speaker. Brother Michael French, the Director of "CIL" is able to translate into all THREE of the official languages! I felt sorry for Brother Gaetano, the only Italian brother out of all 34 "Cilists" participating in the full six month program. He has a bare bones knowledge of Spanish and no comprehension of French or English. This doesn't deter him from speaking to ANYONE at LENGTH in Italian. It appears a nod of the head and an occasional "scuzi"? is all he requires. Everyone appreciates the irony of an Italian Brother unable to communicate in his own Motherhouse situated on the outskirts of Rome! It would be easy to trivialize the importance of the variety of languages spoken at this conference by noting the "international" flavor of the Institute or the "diversity" of the people following in the footsteps of Saint John Baptist de La Salle. For me, the presence of so many different languages is becoming an opportunity to pay close attention to the challenges of communicating with people from different backgrounds and cultures (a modest and semi-serious example of how we Americans take things for granted is to be found in this advice to future travellers to Italy - avoid eating cereal in the morning if it requires milk!). In a way, I find the presence of so many "voices" (English teachers know what I mean) to be a remarkable opportunity to become more assertive in my own efforts to understand what is being said (many know that my listening skills are not my best feature). What is truly remarkable is the intense interest on the part of everyone involved in this conference to be able to communicate with each other. Since this conference is being produced by a religious congregation, we spend at least some time in communal prayer. Today's prayer service, which included spoken parts from all three "official" languages, emphasized the importance of serving the Mission of Saint John Baptist de La Salle. Consequently, a refrain repeated throughout echoed the words of the prophet, Samuel: "Here I am Lord." Each language group had an opportunity to speak the words in their native tongue. I was struck by the reverence by which each language group approached the refrain. As the morning wore on, I began to focus my attention on the "affective" domain of a group of people whose only common language was that of body language, tone of voice, and the ability to distinguish themselves through highly nuanced behaviors. We had another "forced march" today and (what appears to be) a "typical" European version of a party. More on these items when I wake up! * The picture above is taken at sunset from the Spanish Steps. I wanted to go to Harry's American Bar, but the group trudged on instead!

Oh Susanna...

Today was a brilliant, sunny day - chilly but spring-like...a relief after the soaking rains of yesterday. I discovered the happy coincidence of our decision to attend Mass at the Church of Santa Susanna - the "American" church in Rome. Under the care of the Paulists, Santa Susanna provides English language services for the American ex-patriots. The first coincidence was realizing that January 25th meant that we were celebrating the feast of the conversion of Saint Paul in a Paulist parish. The second coincidence was the discovery that today's liturgy concluded the Paulists' celebration of the 150th anniversary of their foundation. Everything happens in "threes" so it was particularly delightful to be reminded that this was all happening in the midst of the "Pauline Year" declared by Pope Benedict XVI. Over the years I have heard from Catholic pilgrims how the experience of Mass on a pilgrimmage can be profoundly more different than when it is experienced as a tourist. I haven't really thought much about that dynamic as I never anticipated the possibility that I would participate in a pilgrimmage (the experience of a month in Rome is beginning to feel very much like a pilgrimmage) - so it came as a surprise to me that the experience of Mass at Santa Susanna began to pull me deeper into the liturgy in ways I would not have anticipated. I particularly focused my thoughts on the Responsorial Psalm of that day's liturgy: Teach me your ways O Lord. As I thought about the reason I was in Rome for a month, that refrain encouraged me to be more attentive to what the possible outcomes of this month-long conference could mean for the Christian Brothers, for me and for La Salle High School Knowing that a La Salle alum, Father Greg Apparcel, CSP is the pastor at Santa Susanna, I was hoping to encounter him at Mass. Alas, no such luck. I resolved to return to the parish and introduce myself to him. My research into the story behind Santa Susanna produced a surprisingly entertaining story regarding a property dispute between the Cistercian nuns resident at Santa Susanna and the Paulist community. It involved the changing of locks and other unpleasantries - something one might expect in the Medieval period - however I am coming to realize that Rome is "Rome" no matter what the year. In this case, it was as recently at 1985! You can read all about it at: http://www.initaly.com/regions/latium/church/susanna.htm After lunch at the Motherhouse (more pasta!), Brother Bob Schieler, General Councilor for the US/Toronto Region invited a number of us to join him in a "walk" around Rome. It felt a little more like a "forced march" as Bob is quite a brisk walker. While more than a few aches and pains surfaced during the 2 hour hike - it was all worth while. Starting at Villa Pamphilii Park - a magnificent Villa surrounded by acres of rolling hills, the greenery stretched for miles before us - Bob not giving a hint as to how far we would be walking - it turned out to be a maginficent (if achingly painful) walking tour of Rome, ending at the Vatican. By that point, I had had it; so when the others chose to visit Saint Peter's, I happily took Bob's directions to the # 46 bus (you catch it on the other side of the wall from the Pope Paul VI Audience Hall) back to the Motherhouse where a beer and a shower awaited me.

Friends, Romans, Countrymen...

The start of my visit to the Eternal City went off without a hitch. When I arrived in Dulles to connect to the international flight I was delighted to see that Tina Bonacci '94 was on the same plane. We caught up on her work with the Midwest District while enroute. Tina was a godsend because our arrival at Fiumicino Airport, though flawless, put us on the ground a half hour early. And even after waiting for 45 minutes, we somehow missed seeing the Christian Brother who was sent to take us to the Motherhouse. Thankfully Tina took charge, eluded the "gypsy" cab drivers and hailed a "licensed" cab. Under her direction the cabbie got us to the Christian Brothers' Motherhouse (the accepted moniker here on Via Aurelia is "the Generalate". It sounds a bit too militaristic for my taste; so I'll use the older reference in these posts). The Motherhouse is massive in size. Shaped somewhat like a squared off "W" with an enormous chapel in the center, the building supports four major occupants: the Brothers who are assigned to perform various tasks in central administration & the General Council who occupy the front of the building, the Brothers attending "CIL" ("Centro Internazionale Lasalliano") which is a spiritual and professional development program for Brothers in their midlife, who occupy the left side of the "W" (It is this group that 30 lay people like myself will be joining for the next 25 days. More on that after I attend the orientation session.). Lastly, there is the hotel - "Casa per Ferie La Salle" which occupies the right side of the "W" ( in the picture, you can see it just beyond and slightly above the chapel). The building was designed in the thirties and reflects Mussolini-inspired Italian architecture of the period. I was pleased to be assigned a corner room (with TWO windows) on the "CIL" side. As one would expect in a religious house, the rooms are spartan but comfortable. There is a school just on the other side of the gardens facing my room. As I write this, I am surrounded by the sounds of children playing during recess (even in the rain!) at the Lasallian elementary school adjacent to the Motherhouse grounds. Happily, two Brothers that I knew on the East Coast are here in Rome. Brother Timothy Tarmey from the New York District is a "CIL" participant and Brother Charles Kitson of the Long-Island/New England District is in charge of the Secretariat for the Lasallian Family (allied groups around the world who share in the Lasallian charism). Some of the American participants are gathering for lunch (even though it's 3:30 AM in California!)

Recently I have found myself reflecting on three words: change, respect, values. Given the ubiquitous use of the word change during the recently concluded presidential election - for most of us - it has taken on the quality of a song lyric that, having heard it on the radio, we happen to repeat it endlessly in our head – often to the point of complete distraction. My thoughts about respect stem from a series of class meetings our Principal, Pat Bonacci, AFSC conducted last week. The concept of values has been in the forefront of my thoughts because, at La Salle, we seek to ensure that everything we do is predicated on the vision of Saint John Baptist de La Salle to provide a “human and Christian education for the young, especially the poor.” What follows is my attempt to situate these three terms in the broader context of what I hope we all understand as the La Salle Difference.


Both candidates argued for change; one rooted in the fresh perspective of an outsider, the other based on deep experience as a maverick in the halls of power. And while I believe that both candidates would, indeed, have shaken up the way Washington does business, neither of them addressed what I consider to be the underlying problem: the willingness of citizens to accept glib pronouncements from our nation’s leaders which imply that the consequences of decisions made now don’t have to be addressed until sometime in the distant future. Well, if there is one thing the worst economic crisis since the Depression has made clear, it’s this: the future has an annoying tendency to sneak up on us when we least expect it to.

Which leads me to the notion of respect - Lasallian schools worldwide commit themselves to the implementation of five core principles:

• Faith in the presence of God

• Quality and practical educational program

• Proclamation of the Gospel message

• Concern for the poor and social justice

• Inclusive community that promotes respect for all persons

This last principle was the focus of attention in the class meetings conducted by our Principal, who wanted to draw students’ attention to two concerns that violated the Lasallian emphasis on respect for all persons. Both issues were slightly related: student-to-student verbal and physical abuse and student use of inappropriate language in personal and on-line conversations.

As I listened to his tough and very clear message about what is and is not acceptable at La Salle, it occurred to me that it is very easy for adults to take for granted the relatively harmonious environment our students encounter every day. Teenagers will always be teenagers, however, so they will test each other and us in provocative ways. At La Salle, however, students recognize how to respect the boundary between appropriate and inappropriate behavior. And, because we educators perform our duties rooted in the assumption that our students will not cross that boundary, we tend to forget that adolescent meanness still happens – albeit beyond our hearing or view. So when inappropriate behavior – language or disrespect – slides above the socially acceptable boundary, it glares at us like the headlights of an oncoming car. We are startled – perhaps even shocked - by the behavior and scurry to drive it back below the surface.

Which brings me back to the problem I believe the word change has been used to fix – only mere change won’t fix the national tendency to let future generations cope with – and pay for – the decisions we make today. Assuming, therefore, that La Salle’s teenagers will perfectly respect the boundary between appropriate and inappropriate behavior is just as misplaced as thinking that the nation’s next generation of citizens will be able to easily fix the mistakes we make today. We need to get below the surface to attack the root problem – whether it is greed at the national level or disrespect at the local level. And that requires careful attention to the values we espouse.

There is an inherent discipline necessary in rooting our behavior in a set of values. Paying attention to how our values operate in our daily lives is the first and most critical discipline. We’ve ignored that at the national level and we were at risk of losing focus here at the local level – hence the decision of our Principal to meet with the students. Those meetings served two purposes: to remind students of our Mission-based values (Students are challenged to demonstrate respect and appreciation for people

of different talents, cultures, religions, genders, and economic backgrounds.) and secondly, to remind adults of our responsibility to reinforce the discipline necessary to ensure our values become engrained in the students entrusted to our care.

The time between Thanksgiving and Christmas has been, for me, a wonderful opportunity to be grateful that a place like La Salle exists and is unafraid to address present day challenges when they occur - not at some distant point in the future.

Just before the Thanksgiving break, I had to run an errand over at Santa Anita Mall. As I was fruitlessly looking for a parking spot, I noticed a sign in front of the entrance to Nordstrom that proclaimed (I’m paraphrasing here): “In order to respect the Thanksgiving holidays, Nordstrom will not put up its Christmas decorations until November 26th.” My initial reaction was: “It’s about time!” My second reaction was less enthusiastically idealistic, assuming that, maybe, the store’s Christmas displays had been sidetracked somewhere in Pasadena, Texas (as opposed to Pasadena, CA). This got me thinking about a common social conversation that crops up around this time of year that usually begins with: “Isn’t it awful that…” and ends with “how commercialized Christmas has become” or, if you are a Fox News devotee: “how the ‘Thought Police’ are trying to take ‘Christian’ out of Christmas.” Once again, my initial thought was along the lines of: “Isn’t it too bad that Christmas has to become an intellectual war zone?” Mind you, I’m one of those who thinks it’s crass and distasteful that some retail outlets put up their Christmas decorations before Halloween (imagine the confusion that would create over at Party City!). I must admit, however, that my irritation at the presence of Christmas decorations before the last piece of candy has been given out to a Trick-or-Treater has less to do with the hallowed traditions surrounding a central celebration of our Christian tradition than it does with what I have come to call “Jingle Exhaustion.” By Christmas day, I simply can’t take one more badly arranged Christmas Carol intended to sell I-Pods or skateboards or the latest ‘gotta have’ toy, much less the “fingernail on a blackboard” arrangement of piped-in music at the local mall (It’s even worse if I’ve recorded a TV show before Christmas and don’t get to watch it until well after Christmas!).


So it was something of a surprise to me when the Thanksgiving holidays found me actually looking forward to the chaotic, atonal, commercialized shopping period that ends with a resounding, silent thud on December 25th. Many of my friends know that I spend the Thanksgiving holidays in Hawai’i (you would too, if you grew up on the East Coast where Thanksgiving generally meant snow, cold, overheated homes packed with relatives you only see once a year, and an inordinate obsession with lumps in the gravy). I consider my annual trip to Honolulu as a much more efficient (and incredibly less expensive) option to therapy. There is an annual Christmas parade down Kalakaua Avenue that ends with Santa traveling down the street in an Outrigger Canoe. I’ve generally managed to miss the parade, but circumstances found me in attendance this year. And, I must confess that I was absolutely delighted to see a Pacific Islander Santa waving to the crowds of shoppers from an over decorated Outrigger Canoe!

As I attempted to deconstruct my reaction, I began to realize that my delight had its roots in what I considered to be the incongruity of a Pacific Islander Santa taking advantage of a culturally specific mode of transportation in order to promote the commonly accepted wisdom that we should all be joyous during this “happiest time of the year.” That apparent incongruity caused me to realize that there are commonly accepted cultural symbols of a world where children are happy and things can give us pleasure which can take the edge off our tendency to see the world as an ever more threatening place. I began to see that in a world that is increasingly more fragmented, where peace is ever more elusive, and where disagreements in the public square are rapidly transformed into “with us or against us” polarities, a little silliness, a good dose of crass commercialism, and the use of seasonal icons in unexpected culturally specific ways can take the edge off our communal cynicism. I’m coming to think that we take ourselves way too seriously most of the year and that we need a break from our grim sense that the world is spinning out of control. Whatever one thinks about the commercialization of Christmas or its homogenization, the ever-present Muzak and Jingles remind us that this is a time of year when our thoughts turn to family, friends, and acts of generosity that won’t likely get repeated until someone we love has a birthday. I have an idea that the Christmas Parade down Kalakaua Avenue is going to be on my annual “must do” list.