Sitting in the inviting cloister offers plenty of solace.
I am continually in awe when I visit the Convent of San Marco. My favorite place in all of Florence; an icon of 15th century Florentine Renaissance history, art and faith. Sitting in the inviting cloister offers plenty of solace. But then, there is the breath-taking approach at the head of the staircase leading to the Upper Floor. The Annunciation. An ‘aesthetic experience’, for sure. I spent a long time in front of this fresco this morning. It’s always been a favorite because I can’t help but look at it and wonder what God is calling me to do. And then there is the humility that Mary exudes, which I can almost feel within my reach. If this isn’t enough, walk down the corridors and peak into the dormitory cells, each with a fresco by Fra Angelico depicting a scene from the life of Christ. If only I could live there, I would pick Cell 1--Noli me tangere, with Jesus telling Mary Magdalene, “Do not to touch me, for I am not yet ascended to the Father.” I love the colors and the composition, and I have always been mystified by Jesus’ comment, for I often feel an approach-avoidance with Jesus. But here is a direct rebuff. It is a seminal moment. Mary has to wait until Jesus ascends, and when he does, Mary becomes all of us, and Jesus becomes accessible to us all.
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What follows is the entry to my www.cottagebythesea.net. If you follow both of my blogs, this will be a repeat. It sets the scene for my latest pilgrimage, Italy and specifically Florence. But I want to add a little here for my prayer diary readers. I plan to wander about with God, whatever that means? I plan to sit in churches and pray. I plan to hear God. That’s all I know at the moment. I’m open to….. I’m in the air; A’Italia is taking me to Italy; a train will take me to Florence. It’s a simple trip because I’m flying direct: Boston to Rome. No complicated itinerary this time. No USAirways flight west to Philly so I can fly east (back over Boston) to Rome. I wonder how these first three weeks will be for me before my daughter joins me for week four? I’ve rented the same apartment that I rented last year near the Piazza Santa Trinita--and that means near the Santa Trinita church and the Santa Trinita bridge--and that means near the Arno. What a perfect location, and what’s more, the apartment is clean, safe and quiet. I’m in heaven even before I get there. I’m thinking that simplicity is going to rule this trip. As a sign, I left my journal at home, and failed to add an all-about-Florence app to my phone. I guess I didn’t want the complexity of it all. By nature cities are not simple but that doesn’t mean I can’t live a simple life here. I know Florence well so I can get around without a map and I speak some Italian. My small suitcase holds a few simple pants, shirts and shoes, and my computer, Nook, and water bottle fit into my tidy little backpack. My plan is wander the streets and eat my way about the city. I’ll visit churches and museums, sit at cafes, write this blog and post some photographs--as simple as that. I writing this on the plane. When I arrive in Florence I plan to take a picture or two and then post this as is once I get hooked up to wifi at the apartment. Then I’ll go off for a pizza and beer at the Piazza della Signoria. Here a follow-up to my last blog. This prayer, also in The Divine Hours; A Manual for Prayer, compiled by Phyllis Tickle, is repeated every morning throughout the year. It may be attributed to St. Augustine but I’m not certain. Regardless it is a very comforting prayer for protection at the start of each day. Lord God, almighty and everlasting Father, you have brought me in safety to this new day. Preserve me with your mighty power, that I may not fall into sin, nor be overcome by adversity; and in all I do direct me to the fulfilling of your purpose; through Jesus Christ my Lord. Amen Assisi Lately I’ve been annoyed at the idea of obedience. I don’t want to be obedient to anyone but myself and God, which is terribly hard and something that I don’t always/usually do. But why the annoyance? I think it has to do with my awareness that obedience is foundational to the patriarchy of the Roman Catholic church, which means being obedient to another human being, specifically to a man. Obedience is foundational in The Rule of St. Benedict, in the structure of the Society of Jesuits and other religious orders, and of course in the Pope's ‘job description’. Having just returned from Italy, this idea is imprinted on my mind. But it doesn’t have to be my limited view, my definition. I don’t have to settle on the idea that obedience is to another human who thinks he knows what I need or should do. That may be the easy way out but I want to be obedient to God’s call, which is the hard way. The gate is narrow. What a challenge. "Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the way is broad that leads to destruction, and there are many who enter through it. For the gate is narrow and the road is hard that leads to life, and there are few who find it. Matthew 7.13 I didn’t have time this morning to sit in my special pew in Santa Trinita to contemplate the pieces of art that had been speaking to me all the other mornings in Florence. But the memory and message goes on, as does my faith journey. I am reminded of how the first ending in Mark’s Gospel has the disciples fleeing. But then the story goes on, and as we know, it continues to this day. Here’s how the story went for me day after day in Santa Trinita. Maybe you can find a story of your own in my pictures and questions. The Annunciation, Lorenzo Monaco (1424) What is God’s call to me/you? What is God announcing that I/you should do? The Adoration of the Shepherds, Domenico Ghirlandio (1943), What was birthed in me/you? What is being birthed now? Altar showing the Risen Christ above Christ on the cross. What do I/you have to surrender to? What do I/you have to suffer? What hope does Christ give me/you? Coronation of the Madonna, Bicci di Lorenzo (1430)
What particular joy awakes me/you? Every morning I sit on the Santa Trinita bridge and review what I’m grateful for and how I want God to be present to me during the day. Next I cross the bridge to the other side of the Arno and enjoy a cappucchino at a nearby bar. Then I go back across the bridge to the church of Santa Trinita. I will write about my experience in the church, but it will have to wait. Right now I’m about to catch the bus to Siena for the day. The other day on www.acottagebythese.net I wrote about my visit to the Convent of San Marco, one of my favorite places in all of Florence to find silence, solitude and simplicity. Ascending the staircase to the floor of the monks cells is always an intense spiritual experience, because Fra Angelico’s awe-inspiring 'Annunciation' confronts me at the top of the stairs. Mary seems to be saying, “Who me? How can this be to birth the Christ?” Fra Angelico has me saying the same words about God’s call to me. The possibility of a call from God is so intellectually preposterous that i often dismiss the idea before I even consider what the call might be or mean. But when I’m in front of this painting I keep hearing the specific call to pray for people, which is something I can do. It is the call to surrender that is a mighty big challenge, and may be why I spent so much time before the crucifixes that Fra Angelico painted in many of the cells. Santa Maria Novella I didn’t grow up with crucifixes, nor are there any in my present day church, so when I come to Italy I am particularly aware of the many times I see Jesus hanging on the cross. Our Protestant crosses are plain, empty, suggesting a Resurrected Christ, a message of hope. Sometimes it feels like we are just bypassing the suffering. On this trip, however, I find myself spending time in front of these crucifixes. Of course many are masterpieces, painted or sculpted by renowned artist of the late Middle Ages and the Renaissance. Just today, standing in one spot in the nave of Santa Maria Novella, I was witness to three: one carved out of wood by Brunelleschi, one painted by Giotto, and another painted by Masaccio. These crucifixes help me remember the suffering in the world (the hunger, genocide, poverty, sexism, racism, illness) and in individuals that I know personally. In order to pray for those suffering, I have to spend time with it, and looking at a crucifix is one way to keep me there before moving on too quickly to the Resurrection. A crucifix reminds me of the Christian message and gives me a way to imagine suffering as a ‘necessary’ way to peace and to God’s kingdom now and forever. At first glance it seem strange for me, a Protestant, to be lighting candles for people on my prayer list; but I’m getting used to it quickly. From the responses I’ve received, people are grateful to feel that they are not alone, and that the Holy Spirit is present through this simple communal act. Of course the Holy Spirit is a mystery in itself; I don’t try to figure it out but I know when it is present, and without a doubt it is when I light a candle. Today I lit a candle at Santa Maria del Flore (the Duomo) for a friend and her family. From the photograph you can see that I wasn’t the only one praying in this way. As I lit the candle I felt solidarity with all those who were seeking God’s peace. |
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