Most things have been checked off our Italian adventure to do list, but there was still one big, famous area before today we had yet to explore, Vatican City. Unfortunately due to some scheduling conflicts, coupled with the boys limited attention span, I am the only one who is going to visit the Vatican Museums and the Sistine Chapel (next week), but we still wanted to go see the city and St. Peter’s Basilica together.
It was a relatively easy bus ride up to the tiny foreign country. When we arrived, I didn’t totally know what to expect, since I’ve never crossed an international border on foot. However, in this case there weren’t any customs or anyone really checking anything. You sort of just walk in. At least that’s what we did.
We took in St. Peter’s Square with its large central obelisk, flanking Bernini fountains, and encircling columns dotted with statues. It’s a really large open area so, naturally, Silas and Beren decided to sprint away.
It took a few minutes to orient ourselves to where we should go to enter the church. We soon found the queue on the far side of the square from where we entered. Thankfully, it was not too long at the time and after only a few minutes we were scaling the steps to the basilica.
I don’t know why, but unlike other places we’ve gone, I didn’t research much about St. Peter’s beforehand. I knew it was going to be grandiose, so I think I just wanted to have the experience of taking it all in and formulating my impressions based off of that.
My initial impression upon entering was: grandiose is an understatement. It is ginormous. The ceilings and walls are intricate and gilded with gold where they are not painted with colorful frescoes. There are statues and paintings everywhere and the floors are inlaid with beautifully textured marble.
Off to the right after we entered we viewed the chapel that houses Michelangelo’s statue Pieta. It is behind a clear partition and groups of people were clamoring to see it, as were we. It was a beautiful statue and I’m constantly amazed by the movement and detail that these sculpting masters are able to elicit from the marble. Like, how does someone do that?
We walked slowly through the rest of the church, trying to take in as much as we could of all the statues and art in the overwhelming place.
Despite the grandiosity, or maybe in part due to it, I experienced very conflicting and strange feelings in the church. I felt as if I should be in awe of what I was seeing, and in an earthly sense I was, but in a spiritual sense, I felt put off. The building felt like it was a magnificent celebration of man, the popes in particular. There were statues and art of the deeds of Jesus and other biblical figures, but there seemed to be just as many (or more) glorious statues of various popes and their deeds. It was hard to stand in this beautiful place and not feel as if it were a massive contradiction.
To me, it felt like important aspects of Jesus’ teaching and character were disregarded. There was nothing meek nor humble about the place and many of the artistic depictions were confusing in their own regard. For instance, there was a large carved relief of Pope Leo the Great confronting Attila the Hun, trying to deter him from invading Rome. In the sky above Leo are representations of Peter and Paul coming out of the clouds to Leo’s aid, both with swords in their hands raised to strike.
I could be wrong, but the only time I’m aware of Peter or Paul using violence in scripture was, in Peter’s instance, when he drew a Roman soldier’s sword in Jesus’ defense to cut off the soldier’s ear. For this he was scolded by Christ who, in His great mercy, then healed the soldier. In Paul’s case, I know he condoned terrible violence in persecuting Christians, but he was transformed when he encountered Jesus on the road to Damascus and, as a follower of Christ, repented of those ways.
My impression of this artwork felt like a microcosm of my greater impression of the whole building. It was immensely beautiful and impressive, but Christ’s actual teachings and ethos of meekness, humility, and generosity were wholly disregarded in favor of self-aggrandizement.
In saying all this, I acknowledge I don’t know the hearts of those who commissioned and did all this work. I am certainly a sinner myself who is not the judge of all this. These are simply the honest things I felt.
The boys started to get hungry about halfway through, so we started to move more quickly. We made a quick stop in the gift shop before finishing looking at a few final frescoes.
Outside we ate some crackers on the steps, but this didn’t satiate everyone long, so we began to look for somewhere to eat. Beren suggested we should get Old McDonalds, so we told him we would if there was one close by. There haven’t been many around, but of course, in this case, there was. We ate and Silas spilled a bunch of drinkable yogurt on himself. He also proceeded to dip his french fries in his Sprite and then eat them, but he seemed to enjoy it. McDonalds will always be McDonalds, but I have to say, the ones it Italy are pretty nice. They’ve always been clean and the staff has always been very kind, helpful, and professional.
Back at the house, the boys took a long nap and Allison and I were both able to do some work. When they woke up, we got dressed and went to the park for an hour before getting ready to go to dinner.
Before long, it was time for us to leave to make our way up the Aventine to our new friends’ house for dinner. It was a well lit and easy walk.
We arrived and were warmly welcomed. The kids reintroduced themselves and they collectively began to test out every toy in the house. Allison and I were poured some prosecco and we sat down and began to chat. Before long, the kids ate around a table set up in the kitchen. They had a first course of peas, followed by meatballs in red sauce.
We sat and continued talking until it was time for us adults to eat dinner. We enjoyed some homemade hummus along with marinated olives, followed by a delicious fresh orecchiette pasta in a flavorful tomato sauce with some of the meatballs as well.
The conversation was varied and came easily. We talked about kids, work, travel, and the pandemic, just as we would with any of our friends back home. We laughed about cultural differences and enjoyed learning about each other. I feel like I shouldn’t be surprised, but I was struck by how similar the conversations, thoughts, cares, and worries were here in Italy compared to those back home.
After dinner we all enjoyed some strawberries and cream for dessert, while the adults enjoyed a glass of Mirto alongside. I had never even heard of Mirto and found is a liqueur made out of the myrtle plant and popular on some of the Mediterranean islands, particularly Sardinia. It was delicious and unlike anything I’ve ever had. It was sweet and fruity with a distinctive taste almost like rosemary.
We ended up leaving around 10:30 PM. The boys had a blast, and Allison and I enjoyed ourselves immensely. We were blown away by the warm hospitality and the delicious homecooked dinner.
The boys were wiped when we got back home and we all went to bed quickly, reminiscing the memories of a wonderful day.