By Laura Cermak (’19)
It happens every time. We welcome the juniors back to campus after their semester abroad in Rome and we ask these “Romers,” as we affectionately call them, “How was Rome?” We see their eyes shine, their smiles widen—and their words trail off.
“How was Rome?” The best we can do is describe our own 77-day pilgrimage, each person with their own unique journey. For historians, artists, and pilgrims alike, Rome is a hall of heroes. For Catholics, Rome is a taste of heaven on earth. And for us, for one semester at least, it was home sweet home.
It’s the same principle whenever we transition to a new environment. To be home is to belong somewhere. The first time I stepped into St. Peter’s Square, I saw the double colonnade reaching out to embrace the faithful, and I knew: I was where I belonged.
This story appears in the summer 2018 issue of Instaurare. See more from the issue here!
The communion of saints and universality of the Church become tangible in Rome. At Easter Sunday Mass in St. Peter’s Square—where some of our group succeeded in claiming front-row seats—each reading was read in a different language. Christians from every nation prayed, sang, and stood in joyful silence together. I had never heard the square so hushed and still as when thousands of Christians filled its gates to celebrate the Risen Lord. At several moments, all you could hear were the quiet rushing fountains and the far-off calls of birds.
“How was Rome?” We experienced not just one foreign culture but many. Rome itself has a culture. Siena, Assisi, and Florence each have their own culture. There’s a local patriotism, a campanilismo, for every region, town, and even neighborhood.
At several events throughout the semester, local instructors and guides shared their unique cultural heritage with us. Daphne, for example, welcomed us into her beautiful Roman kitchen for a group cooking class. I wrote in my journal afterwards:
“What Daphne taught us was that cooking is a way to connect with both nature and family roots. When the menu is dependent on the farmers’ crop, when the recipes are drawn from the examples of one’s grandmother and other influences in one’s life, cooking becomes one of the deepest possible expressions of cultural identity.”
I also reflected on a remarkable wine tasting lunch we had one Saturday: “Alessandro gave us some idea of how long it takes to cultivate a vineyard and hone the flavor of the wine, even letting us sample wines that had been grown on the same plot of land for hundreds of years.”
To pick a more eccentric example of local culture, I wrote after our walking tour of Siena, “I enjoyed hearing from Lucia about the Palio horse race and other unique Sienese traditions. Having been a wealthy, independent republic for hundreds of years, Siena is extremely proud of its medieval heritage and quirks.” The tiny city is divided into 17 districts, whose boundaries are marked by insignia carved into the street corners, and whose pride hangs entirely on the outcome of a 90-second horserace.
However, our week of pilgrimage in Siena and Assisi did more than introduce us to quaint towns. It was a powerful retreat bringing us into the lives of some of the greatest saints in history: Catherine, Francis, and Clare. We didn’t just learn about them. We got to know them, walk where they walked, and pray where they prayed.
In Siena, our hotel was right next door to the house of St. Catherine. In Assisi, we walked the same path that St. Clare walked that night she stole away from her noble house to profess her vows before Francis and his followers. Looking out over each town, I couldn’t help but marvel at how little has changed and how each city’s patron saints continue to protect them.
I could go on, but to come full circle and answer the question “How was Rome?” I have one final anecdote: college president Dr. Timothy O’Donnell’s famous tour of St. Peter’s.
Dr. O’Donnell, with his characteristic passion and powerful storytelling, opened our eyes in a new way to the historicity of Christ’s life and death, the real-life heroism of the early martyrs, and the enormity of the Church’s mission. We were able to kiss the worn foot of the statue of St. Peter and pray at the tombs of John Paul II and Pius X. Best of all, we knelt together as humble pilgrims before the confessio, renewing our commitment to the Faith of the Fisherman.
“How was Rome?” Rome was . . . Rome is . . . the beating heart of Christendom. Once you go, you’re not just part of it—it’s part of you.”