Last week in Rome, we stopped into Santa Maria Maggiore. I just expected to see another sort of dusty collection of once glorious art, a museum rather than a living space; which more or less was my take on St. Peters. And yet, something extraordinary happened. While I suppose many pilgrims travel to Rome to get closer to God, that was not the purpose of my trip; which makes the following all the more surprising to me.
As we entered I saw an older woman on the steps just inside the shade line. She wore a nuns head dress, though I am not sure what order she belonged to or even if she was really a nun at all. The woman had a badly twisted leg, and held an outstretched palm to beg with a look of pain and resignation on her face. I don't think anyone else in my party even noticed her. They all hurried inside out of the Roman sun to marvel at gold and tile from long long ago. But I stood with this woman for just a moment as I fumbled for a coin. Then I saw something in her face. Something that has left me not quite the same as before. I can't say what, I can not say who, but I saw something there. Pilgrims go to the eternal city to seek the Lord, or a cure, or wisdom. I sought none of these, nor have I received them. But I did see a vision for the smallest instant on the steps of that house of Mary.
What does it mean? I don't know. But if I had to answer I might guess I was reminded that the face of the Lord is more often seen in tears than in gold. And that is a reminder worth a pilgrimage.
As we entered I saw an older woman on the steps just inside the shade line. She wore a nuns head dress, though I am not sure what order she belonged to or even if she was really a nun at all. The woman had a badly twisted leg, and held an outstretched palm to beg with a look of pain and resignation on her face. I don't think anyone else in my party even noticed her. They all hurried inside out of the Roman sun to marvel at gold and tile from long long ago. But I stood with this woman for just a moment as I fumbled for a coin. Then I saw something in her face. Something that has left me not quite the same as before. I can't say what, I can not say who, but I saw something there. Pilgrims go to the eternal city to seek the Lord, or a cure, or wisdom. I sought none of these, nor have I received them. But I did see a vision for the smallest instant on the steps of that house of Mary.
What does it mean? I don't know. But if I had to answer I might guess I was reminded that the face of the Lord is more often seen in tears than in gold. And that is a reminder worth a pilgrimage.
