Monday, 26 November 2007
Latin Experienced: Dies Irae
Today we were doing various aspects of verb forms. Beforehand we went through our own compositions in Latin. One lady had used the feminine form for DIES which means day; she did this because often the feminine form is used to emphasise a very special day. Fr Reggie grudgingly accepted this though he prefers to use the masculine form, though he admits the feminine form is there in Latin. He referred us to the great hymn for the Day of Judgment, the Dies irae: "Dies irae, dies illa!" Illa indicates that dies is feminine here. Fr Reggie shrugged his shoulders: "Well, I suppose, that's a very special day! You cant get more special than the end of time and Day of Judgment!"
Mass of the Rings
Later in the Mass we processed, each with a ciborium of hosts, and stood around that magnificent altar over the tomb of St Peter, buried in a pauper's grave below. We had a close view of the Pope offering the Mass. It was very moving to be so close to the Successor of St Peter in that intimate moment of the confecting of Christ's sacrifice, the making present of the utterly poured out Saviour, Jesus, the Master whom Peter imitated as he went to his own sacrifice in the nearby circus of Nero. Here again Christ reigns in His sacrifice, a reign of that perfection of love, which knows little of the power of the world but know all about the eternity of God from and for whom are all things, through Christ, in the unity of the Holy Spirit.
And then we moved to give out Holy Communion. Despite a certain air of chaos, I was deeply impressed by the evident devotion in the eyes and on the faces of so many as they reached forward to receive the Lord as their Food of Life. The Lord truly is in His people. Deo gratias.
Sunday, 25 November 2007
Back away
The Monastery was destroyed by allied bombers during the Second World War. The allies claimed that the Monastery itself was used by the Germans as a store for weapons and that the Germans were stationed in rather than around the monastery. The monks strenuously deny this. I remember going there as a young 19 year old seminarian with friends and seeing the old Abbot, he who had been present during the War, still alive, though very, very old. The stay we had at that time was in mid-February (1987!) and it was extremely cold.
This time the weather was sunny and relatively warm. There were beautiful views all around.
I had remembered the inside of the church there. The tour guides decry it as nothing like the old Monastery. The Monastery was rebuilt after the war, with the help of Allied funds, and rebuilt exactly as it had been. It is evidently, nevertheless, a replica. Yet the tour guides are mistaken as to the church. It is a wondrous place, with beautiful frescoes by the "neo-Renaissance" school painter Pietro Annigoni, a deeply religious man, who took five years to complete the dome at the Monastery. He had returned to painting religious pictures after a career of painting famous people. He said: "I get a little bored with human vanity. I honestly prefer these old saints of mine." In 1979 he completed the The Glory of St. Benedict or The Benedictine Paradise, featuring St Benedict surrounded by monks, bishops, nuns who lived in holiness by following his Rule: in the foreground Pope Paul VI can be seen, who was still alive while the painting was being done, though dead by its completion:
The views from the Monastery are breathtaking. I remember the sunsets when I stayed there previously and this time as well we were blessed to see another such sunset, with all its unique colour and display.
The statue of St Benedict being supported by his brother monks stands in one of the courtyards. Its energy, tautness and sheer desire for God - they say more than I can say:
Being away
Suffice it to say, I went with the three friends from Palazzola to Sorrento, south of Naples and its volcano of Vesuvius, a view of which you can see below, a picture I took at Sorrento.
It was good to get away and to see this volcano from a distance, which previously I had seen from the city of Naples, which lies at its base. It's a beautiful part of the world and we were very blessed to have good weather.
From there we drove on to Positano, a beautiful, classy drive, with me at the wheel, though this was not what made it classy. It's a town built on the slope towards the sea, with street and houses perched on strata of rock and overlooking a stunning view. We stayed for two nights at a cheap hotel and there we spent time reading, praying and relaxing, and even entering further depths of Latin. The view of the hotel can be seen as below:
On one evening we went to listen to a concert and after that we made our way along darkened streets to the cemetery outside the town to pray for the dead, on the memorial of the Holy Souls. Italians light up their cemeteries and value the places of the dead. Below is a view at night of the place visited: