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 :-)

In Flight Entertainment ....

Watched a GREAT inflight doco … The Afghan Ladies’ Driving School. If you have not seen in, do so NOW, do not wait. It is wonderful ~ happy, sad, exciting, interesting, uplifting, tragic and frustrating. With everything that’s going on in the world, it’s a reminder that broad sweeps of history is actually about the triumphs and tragedies of the lives of individual women and men. The doco, a BBC production, begins on a light note, with the narrator, Sean Langan, enjoying the funny weirdness of a driving school for women, staffed entirely by male ex-Taliban members.

Light hearted (and light handed in his approach), Langan obviously has a great affection for the people he interviews, some of whom he met when he was covering the bitter fighting which saw the ousting of the Taliban. At the same time some aspects of life in Afghanistan are frustrating and obviously challenging for an Englishman. I mean, let’s face it ~ the Brits talk about honour, valour and Eton, but we know the real reason for the struggles and triumphs of the thin red line as they forged an Empire was to introduce queuing to all nations.

So you can imagine Langan’s bemusement at the idea of traffic lights which are installed with fanfare but never turned on. In a way, these lights become, for him and the viewer, a kind of symbol of things in the ‘new’ Afghanistan.

Between meeting the women students of Mamazoi’s Driving School, the men who are teaching them and pursuing the Kabul city traffic department about the lights, Langan has an interesting insight into human relations in this very conservative traditional culture. Backgrounding the story is the then-upcoming Afghan parliamentary election, which is generating huge excitement, some cynicism and much hope. It will see the first time women will be permitted to vote, an event rare enough even for the men of Afghanistan. In fact, a quarter of all parliamentary seats have been allocated for women.

The owner of the women’s driving school, Mr Mamazoi is standing for parliament, putting on a brave campaign with his allotted visual symbol ~ two light bulbs. He’s pleased to get this symbol, because he feels it stands for progress. It’s at his election night planning dinner that things in this documentary so filled with humour and goodwill, start to get a little dark. Mamazoi has invited his supporters to a feast to plan his election day strategy, women as well as men. He’s a man with an eye to the future and recognises that women will be part of that future in ways that won’t easily be dismissed. Nevertheless, it’s Afghanistan, and the men sit at one long table, with food, drinks and loads of papers, fun, laughter and conversation, and the women sit at another table with the children ~ a much more serious table, full of earnest ambitions for improving the rights of Afghan women, but lacking so much as a pitcher of water.

As Mamazoi listens respectfully to his male guests, urges them to enjoy his hospitality and explains his goals and ambitions, one tends to forget the smaller table in the corner, where the silently unfed and unwatered female campaign workers calm fractious children and wait patiently until every last male guest has been feted and farewelled, before Mamazoi comes over, barks a few general orders at them, doesn’t say thanks and quickly departs. Possibly just Mamazoi’s way? Maybe, but it is so unnoticed, so accepted without comment or question, that the viewer suspects such a situation is very typical indeed. Yet the women remain undaunted in their determination to play a part in creating a new political landscape, and know that without them, Afghanistan can never be released from its past. They are hopeful for the future ~ and yet resigned to being treated badly and dismissively.

Suddenly, some of the earlier parts of the doco seem less cute and amusing.

The ex-Taliban driving instructors joking that one of their number will not allow his wife to attend the school seems less casual banter and more like the truth at the core of the jest.

The driving instructor praising one female student as the best driver he has ever come across, male or female, contrasts frighteningly with the same instructor yelling at two women students for laughing, and later angrily telling his colleague that the women’s laughter made him realise they were no more than animals. The sadness on the women’s faces as they comply with his order to stop laughing, and later talk with the narrator in English while the less educated instructor barks that they must translate so he knows they are not talking about him …

The smiling young women saying they won’t marry but will care for their parents, offering ~ with embarrassed downward glances and apologetic half smiles ~ the oh-so-secondary hope for an independent life, is not just the idle chatter of a Dolly reading teen ~ these are grown women who know that to marry will mean being always subject to the will of another, in even the simplest ways. Like learning to drive.

Yet even with the burden that this discrimination against half its population places on Afghanistan, there is so much to admire here. It’s easy to see how Langan loves these people. One woman tells that during the days of the Taliban, she and a colleague ran an illegal school for girls, but were kept from arrest by neighbours who used bells to provide warnings of approaching raids. An ex-Taliban man explains that his views have changed as the heat of his passion for the cause has cooled, and says a middle way must be found. Even sharp thinking Mr Mamazoi decides electioneering is less important than lunch.

A truly enthralling documentary, and well worth seeing.

You can find out more about it here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/bbcfour/documentaries/features/afghan-driving-school.shtml

All about airplanes ...

Finally, I’ve found out what time it is (I think) … 2.15 am, Saturday morning. Oh, goody :-)

Below me, down the hill along the Claudian Way, the sounds of early morning traffic are building up ~ what time do these Romans go to work?

It’s actually hard to get my head around this whole “I’m in Rome” thing, as I am still feeling a little 'jet lagged' and tired.

The first leg of the journey here was Qantas to Hong Kong, a nine hour flight I wish could have lasted all the way. The “passenger load” (with thanks to Qantas cabin crew for adding to the great descriptions load) was so light that we were invited to sit wherever we liked ~ well, except first class, what a shame. Younger passengers laid themselves across the central rows of four seats, blankets pulled up tight for a full length sleep, but I noticed I was not the only old fogey remaining upright and using the seats beside me to spread out the carry on luggage :-)

Arrived in Hong Kong at about 11 pm HK time, to find most of the airport shops beginning to shut up for the night. And who can blame them. Sad for anyone wanting a nice cup of coffee, though …

A brief walk around convinced me of two things ~ Hong Kong airport is HUGE and it is also hugely expensive. That nice cup of coffee ~ $10.00 Australian. I mean inner city Sydney is expensive, but $10.00 is really desperation time! Of course, I paid up without demur, drank my coffee and stayed nice and wired for the second leg, Cathay Pacific to Rome.

What a difference. When I walked into the waiting area, I knew things had changed. “That’s why the call it cattle class,” the guy next to me in line said, as we surveyed the hundreds of people waiting to board. Most of them, like me, arriving from elsewhere aboard half filled flights. Not this time, though ~ now it's not a spare seat in the plane. Luckily, I have an aisle seat (THANK YOU, Harvey World Travel!), but my large size male neighbour is not as happy about his accommodation, and spends the night with his arms crossed and his legs akimbo.

Caught between awake and asleep, we cruise across Asia and southern Europe throughout the night, arriving in Rome at about 6.20 am, and pour out of the plane stretching and yawning stickily like thick, lumpy molasses.

After being admonished for taking photographs inside the terminal, but otherwise unmolested, I pass quickly through the customs area and am so very pleased to see Fr Jefferies Foale waiting for me. He has made the journey across Rome at this hour to pick me up, and I am very grateful indeed :-)

The Roman traffic is busy, but it is not yet peak hour, so we travel fairly quickly ~ on the ‘wrong’ side, of course!!! Fr Jeff is a terrific and knowledgeable guide and it’s not long before we round the corner into the Piazza Ss Giovanni e Paolo, where my home for the next few weeks sits quietly behind high ancient walls.

How cute is this!

Look what I found ...

Very handy!

Of course, you will want to know the weather, temperature, time and moonrise details in Rome, won't you ... ;-)




The sun's a lazy sleep-in type today ~ 6.51 am sunrise! There will be quite a few early birds doing their worm hunting in the dark, at that rate.

Must say, however, I am seriously re-thinking packing my coats when I look at this ... that humidity is like something you'd experience on a February day in Sydney! Whoosh!

Welcome to my first ever Blog ...

Well, the reason for starting this Blog is to be able to write about my travels and experiences for anyone at home who is interested.

So, I thought I'd start with the reason for my travels ...

As you know, I work for the Passionists, a Congregation of Roman Catholic priests and brothers, whose 'headquarters' is in Rome, Italy. The Passionists are monks, and they were founded by St Paul of the Cross, who saw them as a group of brothers who would travel around preaching wherever they could, then return to peaceful 'retreat houses' for spiritual renewal.

The Passionists have a 'charism' or kind of holy inspiration which is based on the 'Passion' of Jesus. This kind of passion is about the final hours of Jesus' life, so it has to do with the intense feelings around death, grief, pain, loss, suffering and sadness. The Passionists work with people experiencing this kind of 'passion', as well as in ordinary parishes, as missionaries, and in all the many roles in which you find priests and brothers working in Australia.

There are Passionists all around the world, and during the normal day to day life, they mostly are active in their own local areas (Provinces) and have most to do with their near neighbours in other adjoining Provinces.

Each Province has a leader, called the 'Provincial'. My boss (see pic) is Fr Denis Travers CP, the Provincial of the Holy Spirit Province, which covers Australia, New Zealand and Papua New Guinea. Holy Spirit is not the biggest Province in terms of numbers, but it is extremely active.

The priests and brothers have lots of stuff going on, amongst themselves and with the 'lay' people, who are people Catholics but not monks. There are a lot of women and men involved in various organisations, such as the Passionist Family Groups and the Passionist Companions. Many of these groups are about exploring individual spirituality, sharing and companionship in the Passionist charism.

Every six years, the Passionists have a big international meeting, called the 'General Chapter'. From all around the world, the Provincials and other Passionists who are involved in various committees and projects, come to a pre-arranged place ~ often Rome ~ to spend several weeks meeting, working in committee, forward planning and developing ideas, goals and aims for the next four years and beyond. They also elect the 'General Superior' ~ the man who will be the Passionists' international head for the next six years.

Sometimes, staff members from various places attend the General Chapter, too, to present reports or give advice, to assist in translating and to do the secretarial and administrative work of the Chapter ~ all the things you would expect from a big, international organisation having a kind of 'plus size' Board Meeting.

This year, 2006, the Passionists have invited me (see pic) to go along as one of the administrative support people for the General Chapter.

It is hugely exciting. I will be staying in the Passionists' own Monastery in Rome, which is on the Celian Hill, one of the seven hills of Rome. Under the Monastery is an ancient Church, where one of the first 'home churches' of the Christian faith was established. Over time it became the Church of Saints John and Paul, and is now a government run tourist attraction in Rome.

The Passionist Monastery is about 25 minutes walk from the River Tiber, and only about 35 minutes from the Vatican. It is located across the road from the Colosseum and to get to the banks of the Tiber, one can walk through the ancient catacombs and past the Forum.

Added to this amazing chance to follow in the footsteps of figures from history and literature, is the wonderful opportunity to re-connect with Passionists I have met or worked with previously, and to meet people from many different countries, cultures and backgrounds. What a chance for an ordinary person to work at such a level with such a diverse and interesting group.

Of course, knowing almost NO Italian is going to be a drawback, so I have lots of work to do on honing up some language skills! Thankfully, I am able to say Buon Giorno, Cappucino, Grazie AND Ciao, so I will never be without the essentials.