I've been trying to get a post together about Rome, not least the relics of St. Cyril, St. Paul's tomb, and the various Christian holy sites which were visited, however briefly. Yet my words are not fitting together in any coherent or compelling way. It's not that I had mystical experiences which cannot be expressed. Rather the opposite in fact. I can hardly remember a time in my life as a Christian that piety, prayer and devotion have been so muted in the day to day. My experience of Rome's holy places were by and large revelations of alienation - visions of a life I am far from, reminders of how hard it can be to pray. I did pray, though, mostly through a sense of appropriateness. This is just what one does here, I thought. How can a man of any Christian pretensions stand at the tomb of St. Paul, surrounded by a group of 30-40 German pilgrims, all quietly yet firmly saying the Creed and the Lord's Prayer together in a comforting Teutonic cadence, without himself mumbling something or another about God and needing help? Can you touch the rock of St. Cyril's burial place without at least saying "I'm sorry..I'll get better"?
Rome was filthy, by the way. Trash blows about the streets, cigarettes form mountain ranges along the sidewalks. Many things are broken. I saw a mother let her small daughter stop in on a street corner to relieve herself. Everybody is on a damn moped. Everybody who isn't on a damn moped is in some damn small car.
It was nice, however, to see so many young monks and nuns. Most weren't European. The church's youth come from Asia and Africa now.
St. Peter's Basilica was actually a profound experience. I do not think I've been inside a more magnificent building.
I attempted to drink a bottle of wine each evening we stayed in Rome. I managed to go four for five.
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