The Rome beneath

Every time someone puts a shovel in the ground in Rome, they have to be careful what they turn over. It’s not spiders they are watching out for, it’s history. Rome is like a rather dry and crumbly torte in this – layer on layer of landscape has built the city up, and now lies hidden beneath in a fascinating subterranean world.

The most famous of course are the catacombs, where the first Christians went to meet and pray in secret, but the hidden places were old even then. Which is why the Christians got away with sneaking off underground to practice their new, forbidden religion without a lot of prying eyes … even 2,000 years ago, Rome had already built layers upon layers over itself.

Members and staff of the Chapter had a chance to discover this for ourselves, when Fr Augusto Matrullo organized and ran a late night tour of the Casa Romane (Roman Houses) which are wonderfully preserved many metres beneath the Basilica of San Giovanni e Paolo.

(I have to apologise for the quality of photos in this post. I've dropped my little camera a couple of times and the zoom has now completely gone. Also, if I move it even a fraction when I take the shot, it gets all whooshy round the edges, especially at night. I cannot imagine how those old time photographers with the two minute exposure glass slides handled it! Must have had forearms of steel.)

Using only one small flashlight and a lot of caution, we made our way out of the Aula door and down the stairs to an area under some large trees where the very obvious remains of an old cobblestone pathway remains. There is a strong smell of freshly dug earth – that musty, dank richness that lingers in the air after soil which has remained in the dark for a long time is unearthed. On the right as we walked down a set of stairs is a deep hole, disappearing into the darkness, where the footings and foundations of old buildings can be made out.

We go into the museum through the private entrance and once inside the humidity hits like a wet cloth, despite the year round climate control. Humidity is the great enemy of the fine work such as paintings, frescoes and mosaics in these ancient places, as well as causing deterioration to the mortar and stone itself.

Fr Matrullo is a knowledgable and entertaining guide, in which he is very ably assisted by Fr Arthur Carrillo, who translates from the Italian into English, using all his considerable skills as a speaker to provide the background information on the history, tragedy and triumph of the site. The formal museum section houses many wonderful objects, including a reminder that those ancient people were just exactly like us ... I especially love the pottery bowls with patterns that have stood the test of time - I'm sure we've all seen one or two or these!

Essentially, we learn, a section of the site is part of an actual street from the days of Imperial Rome. The photo at right is looking down from the top level, as we begin our descent - if you put your mouse cursor right in the centre of the picture you will notice a dark object and a lighter object. They are quite large old pots. At the left you will see an arch, which is very high up close. That should give some idea of the depth of the excavation.

Walking through the houses, we can see where the floor tiles used inside the house gives way to the rough cobbles of a street and then, through another arch, to a different style and colour of interior tile as we enter a separate dwelling.

Obviously the Romans who lived here were proud of their homes – attractive carvings and paintings decorate the walls, with scenes from legend and nature alongside geometric designs typical of the Roman area and still popular today.

Other walls show the places where older, pagan designs were cemented over and Christian emblems and pictures were painted instead. At right is a photo of a wall in what was one of the public rooms of the house, perhaps a dining room. It is obviously fairly 'pagan', featuring a depiction of semi-clothed people enjoying the sensual life - including food, drink and slaves. It had been covered over with plaster, probably by the Christian owners who would have preferred a scene depicting saints or their own sacred symbols.

There are also places where the Christian works are obviously the primary art works of the room and house, such as in the photo at right. Because of the various images such as goats with cornucopias for tails, etc, this room looks at first sight very pagan, however early Christians would immediately have recognised the image of the man with his arms outstretched as a Christ-figure. The other images are also symbolic.

Interestingly, the dominant colours are also those which are most prominent in today’s Roman streetscapes – there is a particular maroon-red apparently very popular 2,000 years ago which is still widely used today!

Altogether the site has some 20 rooms, in several houses of different historical periods. Recent digging seems to indicate there may be more to be found, but this is yet to be confirmed.

Built on top of some even older houses, the principal houses of the site are those of the Martyrs John and Paul, who were murdered during the reign of Julian the Apostate (361-363). Their story is a sad one … John and Paul were officers at the court of Constantine (312-37), the first Christian Emperor. They acquired a reputation for honesty and good dealings and by the time of the reign of Julian, they were widely admired, with a large popular following.

Like all Emperors, Julian was in thrall to the Roman people and in order to avoid unrest he gave out that John and Paul had gone on a holiday, and would be away a long time. He hoped the populace would soon forget the two, in their embrace of new heroes.

However, the murder of the two Saints had been witnessed, and when Julian discovered that the cousin of one of the men had seen the murder, the Emperor did not hesitate – he killed the whole family to prevent his crime becoming known. Today, a plaque in the Basilica marks the exact spot where, several storeys and almost 2,000 years ago, the saints met their tragic end.

Word DID get out though, and there are historical records which show that John and Paul were widely mourned.

Their houses, where they had been buried and where so much tragedy had taken place, were built over when a Roman senator, Pammacchii, began building of the basilica of Ss Giovanni e Paolo in the fifth century.

It was not until Bro Germano, a Passionist brother, uncovered traces of the ancient buildings and began explorations in 1887, that the hidden history of the Case Romane once more emerged into the light of day. Since that time, a number of Passionists, including Fr Matrullo have devoted a great deal of time and energy to the practical matters of excavation and preservation, but also to the 'other' side - dealing with government agencies, fund raising and publicising the site for the interest and education of people interested in the history of Rome.

Some years ago, the Passionists gave over control of the site Ministry of the Interior, but they maintain a great interest in the site and its preservation.

Fr Matrullo has been involved in promoting the preservation of the site, in informing the public of the site through various publications and also appearing in a television show, and he is also a keen, self taught archeologist who enjoys the actual ‘hands on work’ of the profession.

This fantastic site, with its complex layers and wonderful mixture of eras and experiences is a kind of metaphor for Rome itself, where so much of the present is built upon the multitude of layers of the past, and yet continues to enthrall, astound and educate in often surprising ways.

The site is open most days, but never between 1 pm and 3 pm (riposo), which can be kind of frustrating if you've walked there! The regular entrance is via the Clivio di Scauro*, the street which turns into the Piazza Ss Giovanni e paolo, and the Via Paolo della Croce.

It costs about six Euros to go in and it's really worth it. They also have a really nice gift and souvenir shop with some very classy and 'different' gifts at surprisingly reasonable prices! http://www.caseromane.it/en/index_en.html

* The Clivio di Scauro (which apparently means 'the cut through the scauro') is known to have existed from the earliest days of Roman road building. In fact, I'm pretty sure they're still using the same road surface :-)

Girls' (Choir) Night Out

I have been fortunate enough while here in Rome to have some truly extraordinary experiences, including the chance to enjoy the charming hospitality of our Australian Ambassador (or, as the term apparently more correctly is, "Head of Mission") to the Holy See http://tinyurl.com/y7ou3v ), Ms Anne Plunkett.

I liked her (from a distance, because all I did was say 'hello' while she spoke to someone else!). She was very animated and interesting to listen to, obviously having some knowledge of and enthusiasm for the Choir.

And she calls herself Ms, even though her bio clearly states she is married with kids. Good for her - I admire that she sticks to her ideas in these conservative times, and it's a good lesson to everyone that you can be who you are, even if you are the Ambassador to the Holy See (and Ireland).

But seriously - what a gig! The Holy See AND Ireland. I bet she stopped some war single handed or something to get that sort of posting, talk about nice!

Of course, it’s not like Ms Plunkett heard I was coming and rolled out the red carpet! It happened like this ~

Fr Jefferies Foale CP, AM received an invitation from the Embassy to attend a performance by the Australian Girls’ Choir at the Church of San Lorenzo in Damaso ( http://tinyurl.com/wf7ll ). With a little something light to nibble beforehand :-)

Knowing I was here on my own and completely new to Rome ("primo volta"), Fr Jeff kindly invited me to join him for the evening. Together with Fr Bob (“please, NOT Robert”) Coward, we set out for the Church, which is located near the famous Campo di Fiori ( http://tinyurl.com/y8nmqg ).

Just to prove I COULD, I decided to leave my camera at home for once. Yep, that’s how dumb I can be … take photos of rocks and trees, but leave the camera at home for something like this!

We caught the bus to the Campo di Fiori, my first taste of Roman buses. It was so exciting! These buses go fast, and one does not sit down, they are designed for standing with a very few seats only ( http://tinyurl.com/ygh5fa ). Romans are very territorial of space on public transport, it is not unusual to get pushed and shoved, so they get a reputation for rudeness. But if any disabled or elderly person gets on the bus, people soon let anyone sitting know about it! If you are able bodied you better stand up quick and give the seat to someone who needs it.

Personally, I think that is actually more practical than all the pleasantness in the world, while lifting the paper higher so one can’t see the old person!

From the Campo di Fiori, we walked through a series of small Viales (laneways) to the Piazza where the Church of San Lorenzo in Damasao stands. Typically Roman, from outside at night it looks a little like a boarded up warehouse, but once through the gates! WOW!

Walking into a small courtyard, we were treated to some delicious (really really delicious) ordeuvres (I can never spell that, no correspondence will be entered into), even vegetarians were catered for :-) with the most delicious little mushroom mini-flans with the best, most crumbly and buttery pastry ... mmmmmmmmm.

Unfortunately, I was the guest of a decent, respectable person, or my bag would have been overflowing! I mean, they are not going to eat all those little flans … you can see the staff licking their lips already waiting to take the left overs home!!!

Nevertheless, we were politely but firmly ushered into a second, huge courtyard, a little like a square cloister, with the verandahs on all four sides, held up by huge round marble columns.

Up the wide sweeping marble staircase we walk, straight into an illustrated church!

The walls, ceiling and doorways of this beautiful old church are covered in scenes from the past, along with some beautiful traditional patterns and scared images. It is at once amazing and also charming. Despite the ostentatious style, the pictures add a homely feel to the room, which seems warmer because they are there, like a silent crowd of extras watching the action in the live world. The room itself is very formal in style, in a grand and ancient way, lashings of red velvet, polished wood and gilt everywhere … I was glad I’d made the effort to dress ‘up’ a little!

The story behind the church is also interesting – apparently a rich Cardinal in days gone by had a big gambling win, and rather than spend his money on a new Mazerati or the neo-classical equivalent, he decided to build a church on which he could put a plaque with his name. Much more enduring and, actually, more Roman, too - the city is littered with marvellous art and architecture that is the result of SOMEONE having some luck for a while! And of course, all marked with discreet, yet obviously expensive, plaques.

The Australian Girls Choir ( http://tinyurl.com/wjxfu ) were great! They performed at the front of the long room (if you check out the link to the Church, you can imagine the sweeping marble floor under a forest of gilt chairs covered in red velvet, hideously uncomfortable but very, very classy), and after a brief introduction they appeared and gave a terrific concert. All aged between about 12 or 13 and 18 or so, the girls are fine young Aussie women, from every cultural background and part of Australia. Different choir members took turns to introduce the songs they sung, giving a little background about themselves, the choir and the songs in the process. The girls spoke well, their clear young voices penetrating into the hushed corners of the old room. I've uploaded some publicity photos about the Choir, and recommend you check out their very nice website - it's interesting!

The colour of their costumes really is that very nice, rich purple, and the costumes are interesting, too. When the girls stand still, it looks just like a long dress. But when they move and jump about, you can see it is culottes. A smart way to get around all sorts of cultural sensitivities and also make dressing 'up' or 'down' depending on the occasion, easier.

They began the concert with Inanay, a song from Aboriginal Australia, and introduced it with a little information about the first Australians’ long guardianship of the land. The concert featured a range of songs, from Gershwin foot tappers and traditional religious plainsong, to melodies from Africa, and finished with Peter Allen’s bittersweet favourite, I Still Call Australia Home.

After the concert the girls continued their work as youth ambassadors by circulating among those present, speaking a little about their homes and Australia in general.

Walking out into the humid night, it seemed like a good chance to get an introduction to pizza, Roman style! This is served hot and cut off a long narrow slice, one large piece per person. Each long slice has several selections – cheese, tomato sauce, minced meat, zucchini, mushroom … all lined up next to each other like rows on a knitted jumper! The customer points to what they want, the slice is cut and served, and the transaction is finished … unless there’s something else you want?

Like other places in Europe, Romans often eat standing up, but they’re practical enough to know that many like to sit, so table and chairs can always be found.

The pizza finished, we joined the large numbers of people, particularly young people, enjoying the cooler evening air in the Campo di Fiori, a large open square which was a flower market in mediaeval times. There are still flowers sold in the Campo (and real genuine fake Gucci, Versace and Rolex, too!), but the main feature of the large and pleasant square is the statue of ‘Bruno’ ( http://tinyurl.com/y8wy2k ).

Bruno is the statue which attempts to balance the domination of the Roman landscape by religious art. Tried and executed because of his freethinking ways (including running a printing press, apparently), Bruno symbolizes the ‘anti religious’ heritage of the city of Rome, a heritage marked by a clear and obvious division of the kind we haven’t seen in Australia for a long time. Here, where Christianity of a very profound and essential kind is not just part of the landscape, but largely IS the landscape, one has to work hard to be irreligious.

Bruno was that hard worker, developing a theory of cosmology which posited an infinite universe full of stars which were really suns, and planets as the essential objects ( http://tinyurl.com/y55g9s ). OK, he was a wrong about some, maybe a lot, of that, but he was a philosopher, not an astronomer. He wasn't even an atheist, well not at first. At first he was a Dominican. Not exactly a 'god is dead' type ( http://tinyurl.com/vt77m ). Nevertheless, he suffered mightily. I'm not entirely sure what offence led him into the hands of the Inquisition (there's a Monty Python joke here somewhere), and then to the secular courts for a nasty end, but that was where poor old Bruno's labours eventually did ltake him.

A citizen of my own era, I cannot find a way to think that setting someone alight (or throwing rocks at them, or locking them blindfolded in a box with Def Leopard blaring into their ears without respite) because they disagree with my beliefs is a positive thing, so I have to sympathise with Bruno. And I think I'm right, because if Bruno hadn't been burned, there would be no statue and we wouldn't be having this conversation and I would never have heard of him, instead of which I've read quite a bit about him now and so in that way his memory and the memory of his philosophies (which I personally think are way out there but then I'm not a philosopher) is kept alive. This is the thing the burners and stoners and torturers don't understand, I reckon - blood fertilises ideas.

Bruno is a pretty grim looking chap, well who wouldn't be, but he looks like he has a lot of admirers ~ although I suspect that's because there are not many places to sit in the Campo and the young people congregate nightly on the steps at Bruno's feet as they didn't during his life.

Our night finished with a walk along the Via di Giubbonari and another mad bus ride home.

The Chapter was set to begin soon – just a couple of days, and Fr Jefferies advised me to make any excursions I could during the next few days, as after that, time would fly!

He was so very right …

How I visited the Pope, and found out about companions of approved virtue

Wow! What a day! It's going to be hard to beat this one, that's for sure ...

Today - 18th October 2006, we went, as a group, to St Peter's, in the Vatican, for the Wednesday Papal Audience (or 'General Audience) and I almost met the Pope!

Well, OK, that last bit was just to get you sucked in to the story, I didn't really almost meet the Pope, but I did get within ten metres of him!

To begin at the beginning ...

Last week, a notice went onto the board outside the Aula (see pic at left), where the Capitulars (Consultors) meet every day, asking who would like to go along to a Papal Audience. I had heard, as everyone does, that Papal Audiences are held every Wednesday at St Peter's, with many thousands of people gathering in St Peter's Square on each occasion. Since I was unsure whether staff were able to go, I asked Fr Denis and he said it would be fine as long as Bro Larry could spare me. I think Bro Larry was relieved to know I'd be out of his hair for half a day, so I signed on the dotted line!

Then I started to get really nervous. I have had a lousy cold all week and been feeling awful, despite Fra Guiseppe's magic cupboard of pills and potions, from where he extracted some hot pink SEKI brand 'confetti' for me, along with some antibiotic pastilles, which were now finished. My head felt full of cotton wool and I was so nervous - I was scared of doing something dumb like falling down and embarrassing everyone, including myself!

Usually, at something 'official' I just stick close to the boss (Fr Denis), watch what he does and play 'follow the leader', but I knew he would be tied up with important stuff. So I asked the good natured and unflappable Fr Chris Monaghan (at right) if he was going, so there would be someone nearby I could ask questions of (and who would not think I was being a pain if I didn't know what to do, and when). Fr Chris was otherwise engaged, so I said I would ask one of my San Gabriele day bus buddies, and one of the nicest ever people, Fr Martin Santiago, if he would be my 'Audience Buddy'.

Fr Chris spotted Fr Martin in the Refettoria crowd and said "Come on, we'll see him right now!", so off we went. That's when Fr Chris said "Martin, Christine is in need of a 'companion of approved virtue' for the Audience tomorrow, can you oblige?" Oh my goodness, I thought, what is this?, but they were both chortling away. Fr Chris explained that at one time, if a religious went anywhere outside the retreat house, he or she was supposed to request a 'companion of approved virtue' to accompany them, in order to protect them from ... well mainly from companions whose virtue had NOT been approved, I gather!

The requirement no longer applies (at least not among Passionists - who don't need the approval of companions to behave themselves), but of course the language lingers on, and on these occasions provides not just a moment's amusement, but also a very real link with the lives of past generations.

Fr Martin most obligingly agreed to be my 'companion of approved virtue' and at 8.15 am, we met near the portiniere for our trip to St Peter's. Rather than a big bus, as I was expecting, we travelled in a little mini-bus driven expertly through the outrageous morning peak hour Roman traffic by the valiant and completely unscare-able Fr Massimo Granieri.

On arriving at St Peter's Square, we did not get out and join the mingling throngs ... our bus continued up the street behind the Square, to a roped off area. Now my stomach really was in knots!

When we saw the rest of the Passionist group we knew we had found the right place (Fr Massimo never had any doubts!) and the police, security guards (in immaculate suits!) and the famous Swiss Guards ( http://tinyurl.com/nxdut ) were there to usher our group to our pre-arranged seats, and among the many amazing sights that presented themselves, I noticed that the Swiss Guards in their colourful uniforms actually look pretty good!

On postcards and tv, the uniforms look garish and fussy, but in this setting, against the backdrop of these ancient buildings and as part of the ritual and ceremony of the occasion, they fit in and look fantastic.

And those colours are nowhere near as outlandish as they appear in pictures. The uniforms are said to have been designed by Michelangelo, and when you think about it, he was probably fairly trustworthy when it came to throwing a few colours together!

As we emerged from the top of the wooden ramp I saw why we were being shepherded so closely ... we walked from the top step straight onto the platform created between two sets of stairs sweeping up from the Square toward St Peter's, and there, five rows in front of me was the canopy under which the Pope would sit to give his address!

Fr Denis was singled out by a Swiss Guard, and after waiting a few confusing minutes shown to a seat in the second row, directly behind the place reserved for Fr Ottaviano D'Egidio, the newly re-elected General Superior. We were not told, but we would later discover that at the conclusion of proceedings, the Pope would personally greet and speak with most of those in the first three rows.

Several other Passionists were in the front rows, including my other San Gabriele bus buddy, the German Provincial Fr Gregor Lenzen, who was a novice at the Passionist Retreat House in Regensburg, where the Pope was a very frequent visitor before he was Pope.

The Pope arrived in the world famous 'Pope Mobile', standing up as the white jeep type truck drove around each block of pilgrims gathered in the Square.

As he demonstrated, Pope Benedict 16th is a very educated man. He spoke in six different languages - Italian, Spanish, German, French, English and Polish, with asides in Slovakian and Portugese. His talk was on a continuing theme, 'The Disciples', and today's topic was Judas. While the time he spoke in each language was necessarily brief, what he said was interesting and challenging. You can read the full text here: http://tinyurl.com/ym3yt8

Throughout, he, or one of his secretaries, greeted various groups in the huge - and hugely excited - crowd, in their own language, causing explosions of cheering and soccer match type 'We love B-E-N-E-D-E-T-T-O' cheers in various languages and with various degrees of skill.

Every so often a choir would be introduced and break into song for 30 seconds or so.

Many of the crowd had brought national flags or bright scarves with them, and as their names were called, they cheered, and waved the scarves in the air, making a great show of colour and cheering.

St Peter's Square holds about 50,000 people, I was told, and on this bright, not autumn day in Rome the crowd had spilled from the Square into the piazza and road beyond, in a solid mass of excitement and colour. Is it any wonder that when Pope Benedict said that he 'particularly wished to welcome the Capitulares of the passionist Congregation' to the audience that the very dignified Provincials and Vicars jumped up and let out a cheer? Caught up in the moment, it was very nice and everyone had a laugh afterwards.

The Audience was extremely well managed, and a brilliant demonstration of the workings of protocol, too. We arrived at 9 am, and the Square was already full (although buses continued to arrive until we left). At precisely 11 am, the Pope ascended the dais and the Audience commenced.

It finished on the first stroke of the Angelus at 12 noon, precisely, when security guards moved in very very swiftly yet with no fanfare at all, and stacked the chairs from the first couple of rows, to form a makeshift but effective barrier, so that the Pope could comfortably approach the fence, greet those in the first few rows in an informal way and move off. Well, I say informal but there was really nothing 'informal' about the ceremony, it was extremely well managed to the enth degree. The photo at left shows the Pope speaking with Fr Gregor Lenzen CP. There is a good photo of the Pope speaking with the General too, but it's not mine, so I have to ask permission to use it. If I can I'll post it soon.

One of the interesting things about the conclusion of the Audience was the unofficial 'press gallery' that developed ... all of us with cameras (mine was a little shy in such company), were clicking away at top speed - and some must have got great photos judging by their vantage points! Fr Martin joined the press gallery for a while, as the pic at right shows ...

Well, after such an exciting morning, it was a great pleasure to take a leisurely walk home with Fr Denis and Fr Phil Smith. The 45 minute walk took about two hours - I had to go slowly due to the cold I had, and also was compelled to stop every five inches and take a photo - but what a lovely way to refresh before a very busy working afternoon and evening.

The disease of saints

Warning - some of this has turned out to be a bit gory. If you dislike stuff about diseases, this might be the post you want to skip ... There will be a less gruesome one about St Gabriel's Shrine, soon-ish :-)

I had never heard this expression used until yesterday, when Fr Bob Coward CP, who lives and works in Rome, used the phrase to describe tuberculosis (TB) or, as it was once known, 'consumption'. He was speaking in relation to the deaths of St Gabriel Possenti (right) and St Gemma Galgani (below, left). St Gemma definitely did have tuberculosis - of the spine - and St Gabriel is thought to have had it, as the symptoms of his long illness match the disease.

It was known as the disease of saints because so many religious, priests, nuns and brothers belonging to religious orders, contracted the disease and died. The chances of cathcing TB, and passing it on to others was high ... especially as they lived mostly in community, sharing dormitory bedrooms and common dining areas ... just the sorts of places for a sneeze or cough to spread the bacteria which causes TB, to an unknowing group of new hosts.

This horrible illness has a long and morbid history, and it is sad to think that some of the things which bring the past to life so vividly and solidly for us - such as the crumbling ancient walls a metre thick, the marble floors and the tiny slit windows with their iron shuttering, the huge dormitory bedrooms with their vaulted ceilings and pitched windows - were the very things which helped tuberculosis to establish a hold on its victims, and made it almost impossible to eradicate until the advent of modern, scientific medicine and techniques.

Even sadder is that TB continues to be a major killer today, when we know not only what causes it, but how to cure it. In fact, one third of the world's population is currently estimated to have TB!! That's THIRTY per cent. That's a lot of people. Wow. And almost two million per year die as a direct result of TB. That's the ones who are known about and 'official', of course. And I bet we can all guess where most of them live. yep, that's right ... not in Vaucluse. Or Blacktown for that matter.

The World Health Organisation (WHO) says TB is 'a contagious disease' which, 'like the common cold' is spread through the air. Their web site, at http://tinyurl.com/rsxbt goes on to say: "only people who are sick with TB in their lungs are infectious. When infectious people cough, sneeze, talk or spit, they propel TB germs, known as bacilli, into the air. A person needs only to inhale a small number of these to be infected.

"Left untreated, each person with active TB disease will infect on average between 10 and 15 people every year. However, people infected with TB bacilli will not necessarily become sick with the disease. The immune system 'walls off' the TB bacilli which, protected by a thick waxy coat, can lie dormant for years. When someone's immune system is weakened, the chances of becoming sick are greater."

More men than women are likely to die from TB, but nevertheless, almost a million women die of TB every year. According to WHO: "In most of the world, more men than women are diagnosed with tuberculosis (TB) and die from it. TB is nevertheless a leading infectious cause of death among women. Annually, about three-quarters of a million women die of TB, and over three million contract the disease, accounting for about 17 million Disability Adjusted Life Years (DALY). As tuberculosis affects women mainly in their economically and reproductively active years, the impact of the disease is also strongly felt by their children and families. The mortality, incidence, and DALY indicators do not reflect this hidden burden of social impact."

Come to think of it, re-reading that sentence is a little chilling. More men than women are diagnosed with TB and die from it. Maybe that's because the primary bread winner is going to get the medical attention? The guys go to the doctor but the women don't? Whichever way you look at it, some of these women are going to be getting a raw deal, and quite possibly an under-reported one, too.

For example, according to WHO: "Some studies indicate that women may have higher rates of progression from infection to disease and a higher case fatality in their early reproductive ages ..." Naturally, the scientists will make their own decisions, but to me there's just a suggestion here of 'too little, too late' as far as medical treatment.

Of course, for both men and women in the poorer parts of our world, too little too late is probably a fairly standard verdict about many deaths from diseases which are like a bad cold for those of us living in the richer countries.

WHO even have a 'Stop TB Day' which is on 24th March each year, which you can find out about here: http://tinyurl.com/nljam

Although tuberculosis has a recorded history that stretches back into antiquity - Hipocrates wrote of a disease he called "phthisis" (a Greek work meaning consumption) as "the most most prevalent disease of the times" in 460 BCE, according to a team of Microbiology students at Goshen University ( http://tinyurl.com/qsbp5 ) - a reliable cure was only finally developed in 1943, when Selman A. Waksman developed the antibiotic streptomycin. Using a body of knowledge built up over centuries, Waksman developed streptomycin and first used it on a human in 1944 with impressive results.

TB is a tricky little so and so, though, and resistant strains promptly developed. Fortunately, the world's chemists were onto it at that point and, the Goshen Uni team say, so did a swag of new anti-TB drugs which countered the resistant disease. Combination drugs are still in use today for the same purpose.

Unfortunately, as the (US) National Institute of Health points out, the treatment regimen, although fairly 'easy' in the sense of taking certain drug combinations for a set time, is also hard because the set time is quite long, up to a year. Many people go for treatment, take the pills until the first prescription - or their money - runs out, and reappear months later with the disease further advanced and resistant to the previous drug combination.

In Australia, most of us have probably forgotten all about the TB X-ray vans that were a common sight on our streets when I was a teenager. And, public spitting no longer creates the same sort of antagonism it once did, at a time when people were often sent away for 'cures' to break a cycle of recurrent consumptive episodes. (For the sake of vanity however, I feel the need to point out that it was not THAT long ago!)

In an ironic twist for Saint Gabriel, and other young religious like him, a popular 'cure' for TB during his lifetime was for the patient to be sent to a retreat or 'sanitarium' in a mountain region, where lots of rest, gentle exercise, good food and clean mountain air was thought to cure the disease. It seems almost certain that, because TB preys on people who are already not well, through disease or poor nutrition and general ill health, a mountain sanitorium probably DID help many people break the cycle of disease and apparently recover.

And, if they didn't, at least they were not being prescribed 'cures' which the US National Institute of Health reminds us were tried in the past:

"Attempts at cures were varied, but uniformly ineffective. Roman physicians recommended bathing in human urine, eating wolf livers, and drinking elephant blood. Fresh milk—human, goat, or camel—figured in many treatment regimens. Depending upon the time and country in which they lived, patients were exhorted to rest or to exercise, to eat or to abstain from food, to travel to the mountains or to live underground. And yet, tuberculosis continued to claim victims by the millions." http://tinyurl.com/p8fhu

(Probably because they were so miserable from being bathed in urine, force fed wolf liver - come on, what is THAT going to taste like - drinking milk and camel blood and living underground. Many of us would want to die too, with or without TB. I know I would. Just a thought.)

At the same time operas, poems and books were being written which romanticised consumption as a disease of poets such as Keats, and the beautiful young, such as Camille and La Boheme, TB continued to wreak its way across the world, killing people in its very UN-glamorous way ... "the emaciation is frightful and the most mournful change is witnessed...the cheeks are hollow…rendering the expression harsh and painful. The eyes are commonly sunken in their sockets...and often look morbidly bright and staring. "At this point, throat ulcers made eating difficult and speech was limited to a hoarse whisper. Once the distinctive "graveyard cough" began, diagnosis was certain and death inevitable. Rarely, wrote Dr. Sweetser, "life, wasted to the most feeble spark, goes out almost insensibly." More typically, severe stomach cramps, excessive sweating, a choking sensation and vomiting of blood preceded the victim's demise."

Unfortunately for young people such as St Gabriel, tuberculosis was rife - and incurable - during his lifetime. One can easily imagine that in that past era, when life was much tougher and more difficult in Italy than it is now, a few months or years in a cold, damp monastery or convent, with conditions and work that to our modern standards seem impossibly harsh, a young person who may not have been very strong to start with or whose system had been weakened, would easily succumb to the disease.

Those beautiful stone walls, a metre thick and embellished with the handiwork of gifted masons throughout the ages, look so romantic as we walk past them on our guided tours, but in reality would hold in the cold and damp all winter long, during snow, frost and melt. Dressed only in a woollen robe and coat, with a pair of leather sandals and perhaps a hat, the young novices shivering in their dormitory rooms were already be somewhat better off than many of their era - they had made it through the dangerous years of childhood, when so many died.

In fact, at the time St Gabriel was born, peasants in central Italy had a life expectancy of 35 years ( http://tinyurl.com/z8ppj ). I don't know about you, but I cannot imagine the effect the knowledge that you would probably live only about three and a half decades, would have on an individual person, let alone how it would affect the society and culture that developed around these people and their lives. It must change one's expectations, and the expectations one has of those around them.

St Gabriel knew, of course. He was the eleventh of 13 siblings. Three of those children died during infancy, and so did his mother. And his father had a fairly decent job, a legal assessor, so he probably was fairly comfortable by the standards of the time. Comfortable enough anyway to send the kids to school instead of to work, and for young Gabriel to enjoy dancing and hunting and going to the theatre.

But he had already had two long-ish, dangerous illnesses by the time he became a Passionist religious, both of which he had come through thanks to his prayers to god and devotion to the Sorrowful Mother.

And so he joins the Passionists and he goes to the very beautiful Passionist Retreat House at Gran Sasso in the Pyrenees mountains, in the Italian state of Abbruzzo. This is an ancient medieaval monastery building, dating from the 1300s, which had previously been the home of Franciscan monks, who have left behind many ancient frescoes and decorations, as well as building which exhbits the fine design elements for which the Italian nation is justifiably renowned. The monastery sits on a level part of the land, with the majestic Gran Sasso (Big Rock) mountain towering above it. This extraordinarily beautiful setting is reflected in the beauty of the interior of the church and the monastery. It is simply breath taking, inside, and out.

That is, on a fine sunny day, when the afternoon is mild and the air feels fresh and wonderfully cool, not icy and blowing sleet against walls already damp and cold, with perhaps not quite enough wood for a fire and nor quite enough to eat because the winter has been a long one, and certainly no time for bed rest because there is work to be done so the community as a whole can get through the winter. Add to that a routine of deliberate hardships (this is in our terms, of course, to the people then it was probably no worse than digging potatoes, or having to carry water) that was practiced as an aid to religious devotion, and it is easy to understand how TB set upon St Gabriel, and killed him.

What is hard to grasp is how he remained cheerful in the face of it, how he remained focussed in those things that were important to him - his religious devotions and his love of the Sorrowful Mother.

(No, I didn't take the photos in this entry. Find these and other illustrations at: http://www.stgemma.com/index.html and http://tinyurl.com/p88xm.)

It's hard to grasp, or even explain because that's the point at which belief and faith come into it. St Gabriel didn't really care, I don't think, that he would die. To him, THAT wasn't the important bit of the story. Which is a conversation for another blog entry.

In the meanwhile, TB continues to sweep away a million boys like St Gabriel and a million girls like St Gemma every year.

How come ...

my post about the sounds of Rome is positioned below my post about the history of Sts John & Paul?

Oh well ... enjoy :-)

English language Forum for the Chapter

The website for the Chapter, www.passiochristi.org, has some great features about the Chapter. Personally, I love internet discussion forums, and the Spanish and Italian language discussion forums are jumping! Poor old English language forum is lagging behind, though ... maybe we *are* too reserved?

Anyway, check it out, there are some great things happening on the internet, this Chapter :-)

The wonderful and fascinating Passionist Generalate of Sts John and Paul

Well, having arrived in Rome, and settled in, I am going to cheat big time, by repeating the history of this wonderful complex of buildings and grounds (pictured above is a brochure of the site, which is that area surrounded by trees, to the left of the Colosseum), direct from the 'official' records as published in the proceedings for this year's Chapter.

It is fascinating stuff! Most of the photos are ones I have taken in and around the grounds and, while I am not sure who authored this history, top marks to them for compressing a few hundred years of history into this brief but interesting description:

THE COMMUNITY OF STS JOHN AND PAUL:
A brief historical sketch

It was the wish of St Paul of the Cross (that's his statue at right) to have a house in Rome in order to have a sense of ecclesial unity and also to facilitate official relations with the Holy See. In 1747 the possibility of acquiring the church of San Tommaso in Formis in the Villa Celimontana together with the former residence of the Trinitarians seemed to be a reality. However the opposition of the Canons of St Peter, who had jurisdiction over this property, blocked the project. On 9 January 1767 he was able to take up residence in a house of the Ospizio del SS Crocifisso on the wide Via San Giovanni that was bought from the Jesuits.[1] Approximately seven to nine persons could be accommodated in this dwelling.

On 21 July 1773, the Jesuits were suppressed and on 9 August 1773 a commission was established by the Cardinal to settle their properties. A member of the commission was Cardinal De Zelada, a close friend of Paul. He suggested to Paul that he request the church and the monastery of Sts John and Paul on the Celio which was located in open country and which was more in keeping with the spirit of solitude of the Congregation.

The Vincentians, who since 1697 were living in this complex on the Celio, would be offered the church of Sant’Andrea on the Quirinale together with its residence, thus offering them greater possibility for ministerial activity. Due to the support of Pope Clement XIV, an agreement was reached and on 7 December 1773 the Vincentians left the monastery on the Celio and several Passionists quietly took possession of the complex. On the afternoon of 9 December 1773, St Paul of the Cross together with the community of the Hospice of the Holy Crucifix entered Sts John and Paul. The Te Deum was sung in the basilica before the Blessed Sacrament in exposition and the religious immediately began their prayer, night and day, for the Church.[2]

The church that the Passionists found was built above the houses of the martyrs John and Paul, who were martyred there in 362 during the persecution of the emperor Julian the apostate. The church was erected by the senator Pammachius and was completed toward the year 392 AD.

The original monastery that the Passionists found when they arrived is located in the area of the room used by St Paul of the Cross and dates to the 18th century. The Passionist religious were located in the wing off the main entrance and in the corridor leading to the refectory, which ended in the present day retreatants’ refectory. There was no third floor of rooms. The choir of the community was formed from the façade of the basilica above the portico of the main entrance. Therefore at least six times every day the community passed by the room of the Founder in order to get to the choir. The Founder resided in this room where he died because he could no longer walk and it would have been difficult for him to climb the steps to the first floor where the rooms of the religious were located. Across from the room of the Founder were two bedrooms where two religious resided.

In addition to being the site of the General Curia, the student theologate was also located here. The Vincentians used to give retreats here for seminarians and priests and the Passionists continued to set aside the second floor of the house for this same purpose. The retreat movement gradually developed. In 1798 the community experienced the first occupation by the French and they were forced to house the military and their families in the monastery. In 1810 a general suppression of religious organizations was decreed by Napoleon and only a custodian of the basilica was allowed to remain. The monastery was completely stripped of its contents.

When Napoleon was defeated and the Pope was released from prison, the religious returned to Rome in May and through the mediation of Cardinal Litta, a friend of St. Vincent Maria Strambi, on 26 June 1814 the Passionists obtained permission from the Pope to once again live in community. On 10 July 1814 at Sts. John and Paul the religious that were dispersed throughout Rome and in nearby areas reunited and resumed wearing the religious habit and living in community. When they returned the religious found nothing remaining in the monastery: no chairs, tables or beds.

The community continued to function as a student center and as a retreat center of spirituality for priests and laity. At the time of the political unification of Italy the new government suppressed religious institutes, including the community of Rome which, according to the law of 19 June 1873, was also suppressed. The Superior General, Fr. Domenico Giacchini, asked the Cardinal Vicar to request permission of the Ruling Council to use the house of Sts. John and Paul for retreats for the clergy as had always been the custom. Influential persons who were well-known in the government as well as by the General of the Passionists also spoke in favor of this request.

On 30 June 1875 the minister of Mercy and Justice announced that the Ruling Council had promulgated a decree of dissolution of the community of Sts. John and Paul and on 01 July 1875 it consigned the establishment with its garden to the Cardinal Vicar. He assumed the responsibility for its maintenance and he allowed the then Superior General and his Curia to live there as the superior of an international Congregation. Thus, the Passionist community was able to remain in the monastery although in very precarious circumstances. Legally, until 1929, the property belonged to the Cardinal Vicar; in that year by means of an agreement with the Holy See, the monastery of Sts. John and Paul and its garden were included in the Lateran Concordat through the kindness of Cardinal Gasparri, a great friend of the Passionists. He obtained permission from Pope Pius IX to have the monastery and the garden declared extraterritorial property.

The major work undertaken by the Passionists are as follows: the large sacristy inaugurated in 1860 (the sacristy during the time of St Paul of the Cross was located in the first portion of the portico of the basilica.) The Chapel in honor of St Paul of the Cross was begun in 1857 and inaugurated in 1880; the third floor of rooms in the main sector of the building was built in 1933 in order to accommodate the needs of retreatants; the construction, in 1933-1935, of the wing that currently houses the present community refectory and the library above it which also served as the Chapter room. Until 1963 the current retreat house, built shortly after World War II, was the site of the General Curia on the first floor and the second floor was designated for the university/ graduate students. The construction of the wing on the side of the Coliseum in 1961-63 enabled the relocation of the General Curia and the university students to this new site, thus allowing for the former residence to be used exclusively for retreats.

The garden of the community is located on a quadrant that was built by Agrippina, the widow the Emperor Claudius, in honor of her late husband, in the midst of which a temple was erected. The Vincentians originally also owned the area where presently the tram passes but which St Paul did not want. In the area of the military hospital until around 1880, the Passionists owned the land that is presently bordered by the Via Claudia and where the block of houses, between the Via Claudia and the Via Celimontana is currently located. In that year the government decided to develop this area of the Celio and it expropriated the land. With the monies from this sale the long section of the wall of “tufo” rock material was built, which can be easily distinguished from the original roman construction.

From 1775 until 2000 all the General Chapters took place here, except for those of 1790, 1976, 1802 and 2000. Groups of missionaries departed from this monastery for Bulgaria in 1781 and during subsequent years: in 1840 for Belgium and then England; in 1842 for Australia and in 1852 for the United States of America.

[1] Giammaria Cioni, Fondazione dell’Ospizio del SS. Crocifisso, in Bollettino 1926, p. 79-83.

[2] L. Ravasi, Due secoli di S. Paolo della Croce sul Celio, Roma 1973. Giammaria, Annali, n. 655-659. F. Giorgini, Storia dei passionisti, Pescara 1981, vol. I, p.193-197.

The sounds of Rome ~ Sunday morning coming down in the (Eternal) city

I love the sounds of a city, in all their weird diversity, and the way they change in intensity and tempo as the day waxes and wanes. Rome is a rich symphony, layers pile on layers, fluid and intense, underlain always by the shushing of car tyres, the argument of horns and the unsteady shriek of sirens.

Here, high on Monte Celio above two of Rome's largest hospitals, the sirens are demanding and frequent, screaming for attention and action "Look at me, run away". They are quite different to the nasal double beat meep mawp of Australian sirens - Roman ambulance sirens have one long loud wheeh whaaaah, underscored by a high pitched yowl. It is distinctive and unmistakable!

The cars themselves are a noisy throng shushing and blaring, as they hustle and shoulder along busy Via Claudia, accompanied by the low pitched chuggering of trucks and buses ~ pushy here as they are everywhere, seeming to relish the fact that they are the working vehicles ... "make way, make way, work being done here, step aside" ... and buzzing about in between it all, the rrrrreving of motor scooters zipping about.

On Sunday mornings alone, things are are a little different ~ the cars wait, pacato, while the bells begin the movement with a melodic cacaphony ~ Rome is, after all, a city of churches, and their bells.

Bells are such a beautiful sound. For me there is are pleasant remembrances of childhood Sundays, but the bells themselves are marvellous, the deep chime thrillings through the thick metal, leaving behind its echo for an instant, before tumbling into the next strike; creating a chain of cadence that almost catches into tune, so you find yourself humming tiny snatches of sound that never quite become a melody.

As my room is less than 100 metres from the beautiful Passionist basilica and only slightly more from the bell tower, I enjoy the full concert on Sunday mornings, with the shutters and windows flung wide to the azure sky and the sunlight streaming in. No alarm clock can beat this!

Tonight it is 23.30 pm, and in the city streets below, someone has begun to drum the ancient marching tune, dum dum, dum dum dum - and now that they have our attention, they are speaking through a loud speaker, and now comes the full band, a martial tune thrilling the night air and sounding above even the whine of the electric mini buses as they flicker along the road. It is all very exciting, but it is also in Italian, so I can enjoy the music but not the meaning! Ho! it seems one of the many local dogs shares the excitement and has begun to sing along with the snatched choruses of opera, and respond to the powerful interspersing declamations!

The sounds of the city's symphony drift into the night, as do I ...

To wake with the traffic noises and chattering of birds in the few moments before dawn pushes in through the window.

In the half darkness, the sounds are intense and encompassing, nature continuing her busy life under, over and around the noises of humanity. Wherever she has a chance, nature finds a little space, and here in the gardens there is plenty of room for the wild as well as the cultured.










In the house, distant sounds of doors opening and footsteps can be heard, as the early risers begin their day, in work or in contemplation.

The Roman, perhaps Italian attitude to leisure is somehow exemplified in the absence of 'lounge' chairs. There are chairs, yes, some of them very, very gorgeous, some amazingly comfortable, but the few easy chairs that dot this huge house owe nothing to the Italian influence. Check out this site, http://www.designboom.com/history/easy_role.html , and note the difference between the Italian style armchair and that of any other nation. See anything interesting? Yep, that's right, the Italian armchair looks just like an ordinary chair, while the other chairs look like something you might just flop into at the end of a long day and have a nice snooze!

The Italians are an industrious and creative nation, every thing that is made appears to be designed to be more than it is, a cup is not enough, it must also be a beautiful cup. (Of course, that doesn't always work ...) Leisure seems to consist of sharing conversation around a table, with friends and family, and then working a while more. Stand, sit or lie down, but whatever you do, loungeing about is NOT on the agenda! No wonder they found the time to create an Empire while the rest of the world was figuring out how to stuff dried grass into nice mattressy shapes.

I wonder how this cultural aspect squares with the execrable television dished out to the millions of viewers who have made the fabulous character, Mr Berlusconi ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Silvio_Berlusconi ) wealthier than any of the Caesars?

In just a few minutes, the first bell of the day will ring in the house, followed shortly afterwards by a second bell, louder, longer and more insitent - time to get up, get get up, get up ...

The morning sounds of the house rise in volume. Footsteps are no longer careful or muffled, voices are not lowered. It's time everyone is up and about, and there is no more need to keep quiet about it! Doors open and close, the sounds of keys jangling and people greeting each other as they hurry to breakfast, or work.

As the time for morning Mass approaches, the sound of voices becomes more and more massed, as individuals and groups begin to move along the marble corridors in the same direction. the high ceilings return the greetings of people walking along the halls, turning into this corridor and walking down the stairs towards the Basilica, for today's Homily.

Inside the Basilica, the familiar sounds of voices and footsteps echoes from the soaring arches and domes of the building, but the beauty and solemnity of this sacred space where St Paul of the cross is buried, seems to have a dampening effect on the sounds of men, and as one goes further and further into the basilica, until we reach the Capello di St Paolo Di Crocce, a silence seems to fall, and whispers become the sounds that feels most comfortable.

Then one voice rises, to be join by the murmuring of others, as the mass begins and proceeds. Music fills the air, and as people sing, the high ceilings, the carvings and massed voices have the effect of making every singer sound wonderful, and every song sounds beautiful and grand as it floats up into the huge dome, painted in shades of blue and gold and white, with scenes of a magnificent Heaven just like the one I was taught about as a little girl - lots of very holy people in robes, with neat hair and sad smiles, sitting very seriously on soft white clouds which are suspended in an azure sky ... a staggeringly beautiful place, the product (one suspects) of the love of the lord and of good design in nearly equal parts.

Here in this beautiful cool place, where the marble floors are worn smooth with the passage of feet across the centuries, it's not hard to imagine that the painters of these glorious scenes saw the magnificent heaven of beauty, holy love and peace within their grasp.

The Basilica is cared for by Vincenzo, a most charming man, who came out of retirement to clean and polish and lavish attention and love on the beauties here. Is it, I ask, the work of his hands or his heart? He loves to do it, he replies, strong hand touching his shirt above his heart, eyes gleaming and smile eloquent, because wherever Jesus is, that is where he wishes to spend his labours, to make the chandeliers sparkle and the wood gleam to honour Jesus and demonstrate his love.

Many years ago, my grandmother told me that it is not polish that makes wood shine, but polishing. So this magnificence does not just come from gilt and glass, but from the energy that travels through the cloth in Vincenzo's hands, and in the hands perhaps of other Vincenzos through the centuries. As he walks around the twilight darkness of the unlit Basilica, his shoes making tiny squeaky sounds, the Basilica sings its song of beauty and peace and Vincenzo's note joins the symphony of the city.

From the uplifting sounds of the Basilica, we are whisked upstairs again on the tromp of many feet, all along the workday corridors, where for most of the day the sounds of voices and machines take the place of other things.

At 13.00, the city of Rome eats, and at 14.00 it sleeps ... until 15.00 a drowsy silence falls on the city, as many shops close and most people take a midday break, in preparation for the afternoon of work which stretches from 15.00 until 19.30.

As the day lengthens and the shadows slide along the walls, the sounds become wearier, more earnest, slower. Everyone is looking forward to dinner, which commences promptly at 8 pm in the Refettoria Communita. Once a prayer has been said, everyone sits - a group now of about 120 people. The students of the House have been deputised to serve the guests, and are very sweet and charming about it, offering dishes over and over, and sweeping away the dirty plates with practiced hands.

These young men are all Passionists, studying at various Universities in Rome while they live in the House, and many of them are studying as well as doing the work of the House. As the clatter and chatter in the Refettoria reaches a crescendo, the students are busier than ever.

Dinner ends quickly - a bell sounds, and everyone stands, a short prayer is said and plates are passed in at the central table as everyone leaves the dining room and clatters along the wide corridor into the evening.

Many go to continue the work of the day, or prepare for tomorrow, others go to join the evening social gatherings in the Sala dei Papei, where the walls are hung with portraits of those who have aided the Passionists in great ways, including several popes, and a huge and lovely potrait of St Paolo di Crocce as an old man.

These many brothers do not see each other so frequently, and these informal social gatherings find spirits high, many reminiscences to share and news to be told and much laughter, sounding like music to tired ears.

As the city slips into sleep and so do I, I can hear rousing choruses of Santa Lucia echoing along the corridors from the sala, out the wide flung windows, over the silent gardens and into the night.

Ah ha, I think, that's one for the people down below to write home about :-)