So This is Why People Wanted to be Christian in the Old Days...

Friday, April 6, 2007 -- Good Friday

Since we were going to be in a different room tonight and on Saturday night, we left our things at the check-in desk.

Then we headed into Rome. For some reason, maybe because it was Good Friday, the metros were ridiculously busy. On today's agenda was touring St. Peter's, so that's where we went first.

The line was CRAZY. It wrapped almost all the way around the outside of the square. So we got online and entertained ourselves, probably for a long time, I don't really remember. Finally, we got inside. St. Peter's was gorgeous. I was really impressed with La Pieta, the Michelangelo statue that's in the Vatican. It's the only statue that Michelangelo carved that bears his signature. Apparently, it used to be out in the open, but they put it behind glass a few years ago to protect it.

There were a lot of statues and paintings and even some relics of dead people. It was pretty darn impressive. And I have a lot of pictures of St Peter's in my photo albums. There's a total of 630 Rome pictures, so it might take you a while to get to them, but they're worth it. Actually, the whole album is worth looking at.

Then we went to the Treasury, where you can't take pictures. The audio guides were only so-so, but some of the things they had on display were cool. I got to see Pope John Paul II's ceremonial robes, which was kind of nifty. Apparently, he was a really popular guy.

From there we went through every single religious kitsch gift shop that existed in the place. Now it's one thing to have this crap outside of a church, but for some reason, I find it very offensive to have them selling religious kitsch in the middle of St. Peter's. And I'm not even Catholic. You'd think that somebody would have said, "Hey, this isn't so cool. Let's ditch the gift shops in favor of more confession booths. Or better yet, collection boxes." Honestly, some of the things they sell are true crap. It's ridiculously tacky -- where the shops are located, what's in them, everything. Can you tell I was getting fed up with the paradoxes the Catholic church presented me with?

From the kitsch, we went into the catacombs, and we go to walk past all the dead popes. Including JPII. There were a lot of people whispering and praying, probably because he's on the fast track for sainthood -- beafication is the word for it, I think.

We would have gone up into the dome of St Peter's, but it was closed. That was kind of too bad, I missed having heart pounding moments in high places while I was in Rome.

Since we only had a couple of hours before it was time to get in line for Good Friday Mass, we decided to stay near the Vatican for lunch. Big, big, big mistake. It was the biggest ripoff I've ever seen. I had catalloni, wine, bread, and a cuppiccino for the "low, low price" of twenty-nine Euro. How ridiculous. I was pretty perturbed about that. And three-eighths a liter of wine is officially enough to make Amanda somewhat tipsy.

Afterwards, I got dragged to look at MORE religious kitsch. Yay. I even considered getting a rosary for Matt, since he's Catholic, but then I asked myself why I would support a business that was so tacky. So he didn't get one. I'm sure he'll survive.

Then I got my gelato treat. Today was wafer and ferraro rocher. It was so-so. Some of the other flavors I had tried were so much better.

And then we stood on line. Again. And it was even longer. And I got to listen to rounds of Hail Mary's and Our Father's for what felt like forever. I wonder if people say them to pray, or because the sheer repetition of them, with the way the syllables work out, is calming. Probably a little bit of both.

Eventually we got inside, but there were too many people, and all I could really see of the Mass (because you can't say service when it's Catholic *rolls eyes*) were the people in front of me falling asleep. It was very exciting.

And then the proverbial SHTF. It was time for communion again, and Meghan was having a religious fit, because how dare I go and offend her by recieving communion. To which I told her to get off her high religious horse and that I was offended that she, a mere mortal, would try and tell me when, where, and how to practice my religion. Growing up, I had been told by my mother, who is a Catholic, that it was perfectly acceptable to receive communion. And now, you may want to skip down a bit because I'm going on a religious rant.

This whole communion thing is why I don't like the Catholic church. They make themselves out to be better and higher than everyone else, and honestly, by refusing to let people that aren't in the "Club" to receive communion or practice their own religion, not only are they hindering the spread of Christianity and Catholicism, but they are turning people off of religion completely. I think the whole thing is absolutely inane and ridiculous. As a Lutheran, I practice almost the same religion that Catholics do -- we say the same Nicene Creed, we pray to the same God, and celebrate the same holidays. Yet, because I believe that Jesus was only figuratively saying "eat my body and drink my blood," I'm not allowed to partake in Catholic communion. It's not like the man chopped off a finger and told his disciples to chew on it, which is pretty much what Catholicism is telling you to believe. I mean, can you imagine coming from a different society and different religion, and hearing this, and thinking to yourself, "These people are barbarians. They believe they are eating actual human flesh and drinking human blood." In case the Catholic church didn't get the memo, that there is called cannibalism. Additionally, all of the rules that the Catholic church makes are MAN-MADE RULES. God didn't say that you had to believe that a punky little wafer was Jesus' flesh. He just wanted you to believe in God. So pretty much, I have a thing against the Catholic church, and it all developed because of the hypocracy I saw while I was in Rome. Some of which was demonstrated very well by Meghan.

Now getting back to the whole Communion thing. When I told Meghan that she was offending me, she, like any second grade child anxious to tattle, said, "It's my duty to tell a Priest about this." Big deal. So I looked at her and said, "Be my guest," knowing that she'd never have the chutzpah to do it.

After the Mass, which ended pretty much immediately after Communion, Meghan got up with her self-righteous religious indignity and stomped off. I was so upset by her behavior that I called Mom and talked about the whole thing with her. She got upset that I was in Rome by myself, but I didn't think it was a big deal. I was going to the Colosseum for the Good Friday thing going on there, I had a map, and I knew how to get home that night. Besides, I'm not a self-described weeny like Meghan is. It was far enough into the week and I was comfortable enough with Rome to handle it. So I did.

Once I got off the phone with Mom, I walked over to the Colosseum to get a good place for the night's event. They were going to read the Way of the Cross. People were everywhere and it was so beautiful. I loved listening to the Latin. In the Masses, the Latin I had heard was very stilted and not read very well, but here it was melodic and soothing and absolutely amazing. When you add in the candles that people were carrying and the way everything was lit, I could understand why people would have wanted to be Christian over two thousand years ago. It was simply awe-inspiring. I don't even have the words to descripe it, but it will stay in my mind as one of the most beautiful things I've ever done.

Then it all shattered when I got a text from Meghan. She was being a weeny and wanted to meet up to go home together because she decided that "it wasn't safe" to do alone, even though there were a bazillion religious fanatics running around Rome at this point. I sent her a text telling her that I wanted an apology first and that she was out of line. I think I also might have said that I could find my own way home without her. It seemed that she had found some of her Galway friends in the crowds so she had someone to complain to about me. Darn.

Either way, we met up and stomped off to the metro station to go home. I don't think I talked to her the entire way. And it's still not something I regret. This was my vacation, something I dreamed about doing for over a year before I came to Vienna, and I was not going to let her and her religious prejudices spoil it for me.

This time, when we got to CFab, we were put in H-62, half of a mobile home. It was really nice, much better than our Chalet, which really wasn't all that bad. And that's when I decided to take Erika and Paul there when we were in Rome. Eventually, we reached a truce about this whole communion thing -- pretty much that she had to turn a blind eye. Which was more than fine by me.