When in Rome....

The eternal city is infernally cold in January. It's not just cold here in Rome, it's damp cold. Everone is hunched down into sweaters and coats, sometimes both. To be honest, it's not even freezing but the lack of heat in buildings means that there is no refuge from the cold and little chance to warm up. And, the sun has been out for but one day out of the last five. It's hard to think warm, colorful thoughts when the sky hangs over the city like a grey pall.

Romans don't seem to care about the cold, though.  Last night, Sunday night, there were thousands of people strolling the Corso as if it were a nice warm day. Talking with each other seems to make them happy and oblivious to the weather.

"When in Rome, do what the Romans do." So, I am going out in this cold to discover how the Romans do it. My theory is that they simply focus on something else, or someone else.

Well, I went out for a walk in the cold evening air. On the way, I passed a small chic store displaying several pairs of men's shoes.  A pair of shiny black shoes, very simple in design, for 450 Euros, (about $700 dollars) took my mind off the cold for a moment as I wondered who has that kind of money for shoes! Then, I watched college aged  young people laughing and conversing with one another sauntering nowhere in particular, oblivious to the cold.

Then, today I watched three young women plop down in the dead leaves in the park on the hill above our house, studying I think. It's probably forty degrees outside. Their jackets help, a little.

Then, I got it. There is so much more to think about than weather.

I wish I would have had my camera.  It was Sunday morning around 9:30 AM and frigid temperatures kept  most Chicagoans inside. But it was a morning full of sunshine and I thought it would be a good day to go to the Lake. So, I drove to Montrose Harbor. Chicago's Lake Michigan harbors are great places to get to know the city.

A few hardy runners were out and some Canada geese were moving around, but not much else. There are millions of people in Chicago but only my car and another vehicle were parked facing the water which fronts the Magnificent Mile.  On a quiet, windless day, the harbor's water mirrors a picture-postcard image of downtown Chicago, including what used to be called the Sears Tower.

With a hazy blue sky above, bare trees and a lambswool blanket of snow,  the Sunday morning scene was breathtaking. That's before I stepped out of the car and into the zero degree sunshine and literally had my breath taken away.

There was something new in the scene this morning at the harbor.  Someone had built a snowman there. It stood man-high with dark buttons of coal down its front, black eyes and somehow -- rosy cheeks.  He was a sturdy fellow made from three mounds of snow, with the largest mound as its base and the other two forming its body and head. Two spindly branches stuck carelessly into the snowman on either side gave the illusion of welcoming arms. He had a jaunty knit cap on his head and a big smile on his face, a smile for Chicago.

I hadn't been there for five minutes when a young man dressed in jeans and a light windbreaker arrived with a violin. He approached the snowman, bowed to it and beckoned some friends to come over. A second man toting a guitar arrived. Then another with a long drum attached to his front, and finally, a third with a large guitar-like instrument slung across his chest.  They joined in a jaunty line and began to circle the snowman.

 Suddenly, another man with a flute appeared and jumped into the circle of his friends. The floutist led and as he piped  each musician followed him. They danced around and around the snowman sending waves of joyful music out into the icy morning air of Montrose Harbor.
I got out of the car and asked one of  the group where they were from. "Ecuador," he said, laughing.
They were all cold, this group of male troubadors, but they were having fun and got the entire song and dance in before the cold made them move toward their cars where some geese were hanging around hopefully.

"Pajaritas!" yelled the drummer. The band gathered around a flock of five Canada Geese and played another song for the geese, all the while laughing and enjoying their music and one another. They finished their dance and quickly piled into two cars and were gone.

I am going to come back to the harbor and photograph the smiling snowman.  I'll just have to remember thethe dancing musicians.

 We have celebrated the birth of Christ and rejoiced in the compassion of the Father for nearly three weeks now. I think it's only the liturgical churches, the Catholic Church among them, which celebrate not just a day but an entire season of remembrance dedicated to the birth of the Savior. It seems to take that long to let the meaning of the birth of Jesus settle deep into our minds and hearts.

Christmas trees are already piling up in local parks in preparation for the controlled burnt o be monitored by the fire department. Christmas light displays are all down now and the joyous music of the season  fades along with the festive lights. The memory of the sights and sounds of Christmas do stay with me, though as we pass on to the next ecclesial season.

The next phase is Lent. The reason I enjoy Lent, and look forward to it, is because Lent leads to Easter and the Resurrection season, and Spring.  After our long cold and dreary winter, hope lifts its head in our souls as light and warmth increase.
Come Lord Jesus!






"God so loved the world that he sent His only begotten son into the world that those who believe in Him might not perish but have everlasting life."
Lent, however is very close. And Easter, the celebration of the resurrection of Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Epiphany

Winter is more about light than it is about cold. The cold seems so much more intense when the heavens are cloudy and the sun is hidden. Plus, in the winter, the days are already too short. Here in the city by the lake, we walk shivering in the shadows of our buildings while the sparrows fly around searching for food in the snow before it gets dark again.


I think the psychological infirmity that this diminishment of light brings on in some people is called seasonal dysthimia and it is a really debilitating form of winter depression. We need hope, the antidote to depression.

Hurrah for the Church which celebrates Epiphany today! This day commemorates the journey of the magi who followed the star-light to the place where the child was in Bethlehem. We need light in our darkness and the message of the magi is that we should watch and keep alert. Following stars are quests as old as Don Quixote and as new as the astronaut who signed my photo of him and then wrote "Reach for the stars!" next to his signature.

I think the message of Jesus is confirmed by this feast. Jesus is the light of the world, shining from within the sinfulness of our world. The revelation which is epiphany exposes the futility of violence, the saddness of ignorance, and the corruption that sin brings to our world. But it doesn't only expose these things for what they are. Our Lord, himself, brings the strength and surety of His grace-filled presence to enlighten our exhausted world.

"He Fathers-forth whose beauty is beyond change: Praise Him." (Gerard Manley Hopkins)