Breakfast at The Flame

For as long as I have been a Paullist, The Flame Diner at the corner of 58^th Street and 9^th Avenue has been a stalwart hangout for parishioners of the Paulists’ mid-Manhattan Mother Church. Moreover, for much of my 10-year stint as associate pastor at St. Paul the Apostle, generally Wednesday morning meant Breakfast at The Flame. The origins of the practice pre-dated my arrival, and many of the original regulars have long since ceased to be a part of it, but a faithful remnant still breakfasts together more or less consistently around 8:00 a.m. on Wednesday mornings. No longer a regular myself, of course, having moved to Tennessee in 2010, I still consider myself a “Wednesday Breakfast Alumnus” and so make it my business to try be there at The Flame whenever I happen to be back in New York on a Wednesday morning. That is why I was there today – still a little jet-lagged from yesterday’s 13-hour door-to-door trip from Rome, but ready (after two months abroad) for a good New York omelet!

“We all have to eat,” Eleanor Roosevelt supposedly said to Edward R. Murrow’s wife, when the latter called the White House on December 7, 1941 - on the reasonable assumption that the Murrows’ invitation to dinner with the Roosevelts that evening would be cancelled. The Roosevelts notoriously cared little about their food. Others of us care a lot more. Some look down on diner food. But New Yorkers know that you still can’t beat a good NYC diner for really good food at something like a reasonable price.

Diner food is typically good food. It’s also (typically) plentiful, and diner menus are widely known for the abundance and the variety of the choices they offer. Often, they highlight the city’s ethnic character. Greek Diners and Kosher Diners seem particularly popular.

Diners also offer two things that in this age of gentrified, class-based eating we run the risk of losing – a welcoming place an individual can unselfconsciously sit and eat alone as well as a casual environment where friends, co-workers, etc., can grab a quick (or not so quick) inexpensive meal combined with quality time together. (Not that long ago, American cities typically had lots of such places).

The Flame is all those things – and a precious part of richly diverse and vibrant neighborhood, to whose social cohesiveness it contributes.

And the omelets are good too!

Arrivederci, Roma!

Looking ahead, 2 ½ months seems like such a long time. Looking back, however, the time just seems to have flown by. Was it really that long ago that I arrived in Rome on Epiphany morning? And now, here it is St. Joseph’s Day! March 19 is, of course, the day to eat chickpeas (and some certainly tastier things too, which sadly I can't eat anymore), but my focus today will be on packing my bags for my return trip! Maybe that’s how time tends to work in general. When we are young and looking forward, the time ahead seems lengthy and the wait seems to stretch on forever. When we are old, we look back on the past and feel it just flew by!

Given how anxious and fretful I was beforehand, how I seemed to be anticipating the whole experience with an almost apocalyptic fear and dread, I have to say in retrospect that it really has been the most wonderful couple of months. I won’t know till mid-May at the earliest whether I actually passed the course or not. So I will withhold judgment on that part of the experience – except to say that, pass or fail, I did certainly learn a lot and generally enjoyed class, in spite of its being in Italian. (That may have been the best part of it actually – forcing me to learn my ancestral tongue well enough to understood the lectures and the textbook!)

The academic part of the experience was good, but even better were the incidental side-benefits of being here. Rome is, of course, the heart of the Church. So it has always attracted and fascinated me. I have often said that I think every seminarian ought to spend at least a semester in Rome – if nothing else just for the experience it offers of the Church’s universality. That’s a view I have long espoused and is not some sudden by-product of my present experience. What this prolonged time here would add to that, however, would be a strong encouragement to anyone – priest, seminarian, layperson who has the opportunity to do so - to take advantage of the Lenten stations, not just as a valuable art and history lesson but as a genuine connection with the Age of the Martyrs and the Faith that has flourished so thoroughly thanks to them. This morning's station at SS. Quatro Coronati (photo) certainly combined all of that!

SS. Quatro Coronati is dedicated to SS. Claudius, Nicostratus, Symphorian, and Castorius, sculptors martyred by Diocletian for refusing to make a statue of the god Aesculapius. From the bus, one climbs the steep, cobblestoned Via SS Quatro Coronati, through a 5th-century atrium to a frescoed courtyard, then a second courtyard (originally part of the nave), to the right of which is the 13th-century Chapel of St, Sylvester, decorated with frescoes of the life of Constantine. The Church, which also features a distinctive 15th-century Tabernacle, is in the care of a community of Augustinian nuns and also has an interesting medieval cloister. What a treasure this City is!

And so, as I prepare to say arrivederci, I am overwhelmed with gratitude and and filled with appreciation to the Paulist community here in Rome, whose hospitality has been so graciously welcoming, and to my fellow Paulists back in the US, whose readiness to take on some extra burdens during this time made it actually possible for me to do all this. And, of course, thank you to this historic and holy City itself whose ancient streets and stones and whose many churches and the relics they enshrine have reminded me so strongly of what matters most both here and now and for eternity.

Mid-Lent

This past Thursday marked the arithmetic mid-point of Lent. There is, in fact, a theory among some scholars that the original Roman Lent was only half as long as it later became, and that it actually began on what is now the 4^th Sunday of Lent (or possibly on the previous Friday). In any case it is certainly noteworthy that, in the traditional Lenten liturgy until 1969, one could sort of distinguish two parts to the season with definitely distinctive emphases. In the first half of Lent, the focus was primarily on fasting and penance. Beginning, however, on the Friday of the 3^rd week (when the Gospel of the Samaritan Woman used to be read), the focus became more baptismal, while the Gospel readings were taken predominantly from John and generally highlighted the growing conflict between Jesus and the world around him.

Whatever one makes of that all that, this Sunday is now considered the liturgical mid-point of Lent and has long been observed accordingly. Hence, the lightening of the somber Lenten purple with rose-colored vestments, and (in the traditional liturgy) the permitting of flowers on the altar and a greater use of music. Here in Rome, the traditional station church for today (photo) is the Basilica of Santa Croce in Gerusalemne (The Holy Cross in Jerusalem), built to enshrine the relics returned to Rome by St. Helena. The choice of station reflects (or perhaps caused) the traditional opening words for today’s Mass, Laetare, Jerusalem (“Rejoice, Jerusalem”).

Outside of the Roman stations, the link with Jerusalem is now largely forgotten – although it sort of survives (perhaps inadvertently) in this year’s “B” cycle, thanks to the Old Testament reading (2 Chronicles 36:14-16, 19-23) reprising the Babylonian destruction of Jerusalem’s First temple, the Exile, and then Cyrus the Persian’s permission for the Jews to return to Jerusalem and rebuild the Temple. Chances are that connection is generally little noted and seldom remarked upon, however. If anything, it is likely the Laetare part that tends to get recalled – especially in churches where rose vestments are retained. Concelebrating at Santa Susanna in Rome, I myself had to settle for a regular purple chasuble, but the principal celebrant was fittingly all vested in rose (a much more beautiful rose chasuble, I must admit, than the one we have in my parish back home).

There are many popular customs connected with Mid-Lent among them the original English Mother's Day ("Mothering Sunday"). One particularly nice Roman Laetare custom (which perhaps deserves more attention than it normally gets) is the blessing by the Pope of the Golden Rose which will subsequently be bestowed as a papal honor. The Rose used to be given to the Holy Roman emperors at their coronation and over the centuries has been given to kings, queens, princes, princesses, governments, cities, churches, and shrines. Henry VIII of England received it three times – perhaps not the best example! Beginning in the late 18^th century and continuing to the mid-20^th century, it was given exclusively to women, primarily Catholic queens - among them (see http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lfb3jOsHC_c&feature=related) in 1937 Queen Elena of Italy (who, since 2001, is now a Servant of God).

The last individual to receive it was the Grand Duchess Charlotte of Luxembourg in 1956. In more recent years, it has been given exclusively to religious shrines. In 2008, Pope Benedict XVI bestowed it on the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, D.C.

Undoubtedly, Mid-Lent meant a lot more when Lent was widely observed as a season of serious fasting. In a world where Lent is barely noticed, its midpoint loses much of its historic significance. Perhaps, the fact that for centuries the middle of Lent was perceived as such a noteworthy occasion ought to serve as a challenge to all of us to make more of the opportunities presented by this special season.

Station at Santa Susanna

For over 1000 years, before the 1969 Reform jumbled the Lenten liturgy, the texts of the Masses for the Lenten weekdays - what Pope St. Pius X famously called those "most ancient Masses of the season" - were often chosen with primary reference to that day's stational church. This was certainly the case in the old liturgy for the Saturday of the 3rd week of Lent, when the station was at Santa Susanna, a Roman "titular" church, and one of the original 25 parishes of Rome.

Thus, the Old Testament lesson was taken from Daniel 13 - the story of the virtuous matron Susanna falsely accused of adultery but saved from execution by the last-minute intervention of the prophet Daniel. Daniel's Susanna was part of the Jewish exile community in Babylon - obviously not the early Christian virgin martyred by Diocletian in a grisly foreshadowing of the Great Persecution he would shortly unleash. The use of the Old Testament story about Susanna's namesake was, however, a classic example of liturgical "accommodation" - a practice reflected artistically in the beautiful Renaissance frescoes which adorn the walls of the church and which link the story of the Old Testament Susanna with that of the martyr Susanna.

In the old liturgy, the daily Old Testament lesson and the Gospel reading were typically matched. Thus, the gospel for this day used to be the account in John 8 about the woman caught in adultery. In other words, the liturgy started with the story of a just God's intervention to save an innocent person from a corrupt process and then compared that with God's even greater intervention on our behalf in Jesus, whose great mercy can save even the guilty.

Likewise the frescoes in the church walls tell the story of the two Susannas - the first saved from human injustice, the second triumphing over human injustice through the great grace of martyrdom. Indeed, in the life of the Church, nothing can quite compare with the sublime grace of martyrdom - something of which one is daily reminded her ein Rome (especially at the station churches).

Justice is a good thing. It makes human societies work well - or at least a lot better than they would work without it. If we can at least treat one another justly, we have accomplished something of value in human terms. But, as Portia reminds us in The Merchant of Venice, "in the course of justice none of us should see salvation." As the former pairing (for 1000+ years) of Susanna and the woman caught in adultery was meant to remind us, for what matters most we need and depend on the great mercy of God, which totally transcends the constraints of justice. As the parable of the debtors reminds us so well, just as we depend totally on the God's mercy for ourselves so we need to be true exemplars of mercy in regard to others. Our own experience of forgiveness should fill us, so to speak, and so overflow in an abundance of forgiveness of others.

Finished

Perhaps even more undignified than the pointless indignity of having to study for an exam at my advanced age is actually having to take one. Well, that's what I did this afternoon - certainly my first exam in over 25 years! I spent almost the entire day in a state of obsessive anxiety as I anticipated the ordeal and waited impatiently for it to be time to go for one last time to the now familiar setting of the Urbaniana. After the seemingly endless ritual of taking attendance, the envelope with the questions was selected, and the 5 questions were read out. That took more time, of course, since they had to be repeated several times for everyone to write them down! Then I scribbled for just over an hour. Scribbled is unfortunately the right word. even as a child, when penmanship was still valued and taught and graded, my handwriting was atrocious. I had an "immature handwriting" I was told then. I fear that 50+ years later I haven't matured all that much! (If anything, the fact that I actually write very little, other than my signature, in script anymore has probably made my penmanship even worse). Of course, I can read my writing. Studying for my exam, I found my class notes quite legible - if a bit humorous as I read some sentences scribbled in Italian, others translated impromptu into English, others half-and-half or in English but in Italian word order!

We were advised to expect the results around the middle of May. That should certainly give the readers sufficient time to decipher my writing!

Anyway, what matters now is that I am finished! After handing in my exam, I left the Pontifical University of the Congregation for the Evangelization of Peoples for the last time, walked down that pesky hill for the last time, and crossed the Prince Amedeo d'Aosta Bridge for the last time. Before boarding the bus on Via Acciaioli, I stopped in the beautiful church of San Giovanni Battista dei Fiorentini (photo) for a short prayer of thanksgiving. On the bus, I talked to some Scottish Rugby fans in town for the big match tomorrow. they got off at Piazza Barberini. I got off one stop later. It could have been any ordinary commute home. But it was the last one!