Day 15
So today is our last day of the pilgrimage, but don’t worry, I will be continuing my blog as Maria, Father Wim and I head off to Egypt tomorrow.
We had a very early start as we had to get to St. Peter’s Square because today is the day that nearly everyone in Rome heads to the Vatican for an audience with Pappa Frank. Even though we had tickets, we had to queue like everyone else, (that is except for the locals, who seem to think that lining up is for suckers and queues are an inconvenience easily avoided by injecting oneself into the very front of a line faster than McDonalds can open a franchise in a country town), and being the seasoned queuers that we are, we waited patiently as we inched our way towards the entrance and security check points.
When we finally got into the Square, we discovered that we were now the unwilling participants in the world’s biggest game of “Musical Chairs” as all sense of order was lost during a mad scramble for available seats. Luckily I was very good at “Frogger” when I was a kid, so I managed to manoeuvre Maria and I through the ensuing traffic and secure a pretty good spot next to the path the Pope Mobile was going to take when this event finally kicked off.
So we took our seats and waited for about half an hour before the crowd began to titter and suddenly sprang to life going from zero to hypo in a matter of seconds. Astonished, I looked around me condescendingly rolling my eyes and thinking, “settle down, it’s not Taylor Swift for pity’s sake!” Then Pappa Frank and his Pope Mobile came into view and I suddenly found myself giggling like a schoolgirl who’s crush had just walked by, convulsively jumping up and down on the spot like a short, fat, parody of a Maasai Warrior, standing on my chair, maniacally grinning like the Cheshire Cat, mobile phone at the end of Inspector Gadget-like extended arms, and cheering like I was at a World Cup Final, “Pappa Frank, Pappa Frank, over here!!!”
Then we were “shushed” by the MC (for want of a better term), and settled down to listen to Pappa Frank. He spoke beautifully and succinctly, paused dramatically, and demonstrated wonderful eye contact. The only challenge was that it was all in Italian and had to be repeated by a host of different interpreters in a plethora of languages, which took awhile.
I noticed that a few people were in deep reflection, eyes closed in contemplative reverie.
It really was something special and I was particularly touched by the blessing. Then as quickly as it had begun, it was all over red rover.
Father Wim explained to everyone that we now had a couple of hours up our sleeves before our final tour guide Salome arrived to take us to the Catacombs, so Maria and I went for a walk and grabbed some lunch.
We all met at Bernini’s Fountain in the middle of the Square around 1:30pm where we were introduced to Salome, our bespectacled, pixie cut hair-styled, broadly grinning tour guide.
We made our way to the bus station then headed out to the Catacombs of St. Sebastian.
Now, I have been to the Catacombs in Paris and the ghoulish ones in Palermo, Sicily and both take quite a while to walk around. When they say that the Catacombs of St. Sebastian are one of the smallest, they aren’t kidding! If you blink you might miss it. Having said that, they are worth a look.
The Catacombs lie beneath the St. Sebastian Beyond the Walls minor Basilica. You enter by climbing down a staircase to a small labyrinth of arcades. We seemed to only walk down five or six, each playing host to the final resting place of a few early Christians from about the second to fourth centuries AD. Most of the crypts have long been disturbed with thieves over the centuries removing marble and bones (thinking these people were martyrs), so what you see now are only the impressions of where their graves once were, though there are some remnants of sarcophagi still visible and reasonably intact.
Once through the Catacombs, we stopped at part of an old quarry housing 3 mausolea dating from the second century AD. These are believed to house Roman families and not early Christians.
We then made our way up the stairs to a room called the "Triglia" which lies directly beneath the middle of the basilica. This covered room was used for prayer and other gatherings; the remnants of a prayer wall, (dating back to the 3rd and 4th Centuries AD), displays graffiti carved by the devotees of these gatherings, with appeals to the Apostles Peter and Paul. It has long been believed (though is still hotly debated among scholars), that the remains of both St. Peter and St. Paul were brought here temporarily for safe keeping during the Valerian persecutions. There was a Slovakian Mass happening in the Basilica, so we only had time for a sneaky peak inside, catching a quick glimpse of St. Sebastian’s tomb and a few other things before heading up the road to celebrate our final Mass at the Santa Maria in Palmis Church.
The Santa Maria in Palmis Church, also known as Chiesa del Domine Quo Vadis, is a little church located on the very site where St. Peter met the risen Jesus while trying to flee Rome. As our pilgrimage is called “Quo Vadis, Domine? In the footsteps of St. Peter” this was the perfect place to hold our final intimate Mass.
According to tradition, St. Peter was in trouble with the Roman authorities and had the opportunity to make a run for it. He was on the Apian Way and almost home free when he heard a familiar, “ahem”. He turned round and there was the risen Jesus behind him. “Domine, quo vadis?” (Where are you going Lord?) asked Peter. Jesus answered, “I am going to Rome to be crucified again.” Then winking he pointed to Peter, used two fingers to imitate walking, then pointed in the direction of Rome. Then he vanished. Peter blinked, realised Jesus had just given him a one way ticket to paradise, shrugged, resigned himself to his fate, and headed back to Rome noticing (as he passed the spot where Jesus had been standing), two smoking footprints.
These very footprints are on display in the Basilica of St. Sebastian where the Catacombs are, and a copy is also on display in the centre of the Santa Maria in Palmis Church, so it was pretty cool to be able to look at them up close.
Interestingly, his right footprint appears to be a size 9½, while the right footprint at the Church of the Ascension in Jerusalem was clearly a size 8. “Hmmmmmmmm”, I thought, “Highly dubious”, until one of our pilgrims, (her feet elevated and obviously in some discomfort), suddenly shouted to the heavens, “LOOK AT MY FEET!!!! THEY HAVE SWOLLEN TO TWICE THEIR SIZE WALKING ROUND THIS BLOODY PLACE!!!!”
So that was it! Our pilgrimage was over. What an awesome adventure. Great locations, great pilgrims, great guides (particularly the nonpareil, Don Mourad), great company, memorable stories and good accommodation. Thank you everyone.
Next stop Egypt.
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