Ninety-two stairs. That's how many stairs I have to climb these days to get back to my room after class at the Pontifical North American College, sometimes two and three times a day. I am so grateful I can do it. A year ago, at this time I could not walk up twenty stairs without nearly collapsing. But, now that my pacemaker is pacing correctly, I'm fine.
It's a kind of resurrection for me, this ability to walk to events without having to think if I can make it or not.
It would be painful to be in Rome and unable to walk to the most beautiful churches in the world.
I am ten minutes away from the main altar of St. Peter's Basilica. Today, I was there again for morning Mass at 9 AM. Sixty-feet above the huge altar at the end of the vast expanse of St. Peter's, sunlight was brightening the stained-glass image of the white dove on its golden yellow background as people of different colors and languages gathered for the regular Sunday Mass. And, I thought of the Holy Spirit shining down on the Church --the same spirit that hovered over the waters at creation.
God's Holy Spirit makes us one body in Christ and joins us together as temples, temples of the Holy Spirit.
I thank God that today, on the day of the week that recalls the Resurrection of Jesus, I was able to walk up the stairs of his holy temple here in Rome, enter His magnificent sanctuary and join his people in praise and thanksgiving. It's Lent so I can't use the exclamation here that I want to use but it rhymes with "so here's to ya!" "A-- -- --!."
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