On sundays in Rome

bennibag flowers and owls

Churches are about everywhere in Rome;  and even more, as many as the stars up above, in the center where I happen to live, being the privilege of my life. So, on sundays, as you might understand, I have more than one choice to pick a mass in time and place. I can either go to Santa Maria ai Monti, that is my parish church and listen to Don Francesco or, why not, choose the franciscan church of the Saints Quirico and Giulitta, child and mother, killed as martyrs, during the persecutions of Diocletian. In which case Padre Antonio will be behind the altar, celebrating the eternal sacrifice of our Lord. But, but, but, I have many other chances, believe me, I have at least once been in all and every church  in the surroundings. I know all they have inside, mosaiques and pictures and the way the Fathers tell the story. At eleven o'clock, on sundays, for instance, I might decide to listen to a mass in latin in Santa Maria Maggiore. Oh the glory of the gregorian chanting! My soul is lifted to heaven as the priests sing as angels migh sing...

In any case, one way or the other, I am sure to meet, at the bottom of the stairs, a "signor Marini", one who is more than Roman, meaning an ancient Roman citizen. He seems to sprang out of history, somwhere from the troops of Caesar, one of the tenth legion maybe. And when he speals the Roman of real Romans it is a pure caress to my soul. His low voice comes straight from mystery itself. And every and each time he performs for me one of the sonnets of Gioacchino Belli, one out of the hundreds, one that is perfect for the day and for us two. And then I laugh and then he laughsback and we jolly well laugh together and then, in peace and quiet, we are both off to mass...