We are on the Same Boat
When you live in Italy the Vatican is an institution that is hard to ignore, even as a non-practicing Catholic. Last night I found myself tuning in to watch Pope Francis give his Urbi et Orbi blessing. Urbi et Orbi means to the City of Rome and to the World. In other words, to everyone. While I am not a believer in institutional religion, and have serious gripes with the Catholic church, I like this Pope. He is different, and has an ability to transcend the dogma of the church. It was shocking to see him in the middle of St. Peter’s square, starkly alone on a stage accompanied only by another man. That square, which is not a square at all but an immense rectangle with a circle, that is normally bursting with people. There he was, a man, old, frail and poignantly alone, surrounded by emptiness and splendour and wealth. The wealth of the Vatican, the splendour of the architectural and artistic magnificence of St. Peter’s Cathedral. A man alone within an institution that is so reluctant to change. An institution that, just like every nation is helpless in the face of this virus (there are infections also in the Vatican) and that has been faced with criticism about its role in this crisis. At some point while he spoke, a siren screamed past. This scene filled me with sadness. It was hard not to get drawn into the visual more than the words. Still, there was one passage that struck me in particular that I would like to share.
The storm exposes our vulnerability and uncovers those false and superfluous certainties around which we have constructed our daily schedules, our projects, our habits and priorities. It shows us how we have allowed to become dull and feeble the very things that nourish, sustain and strengthen our lives and our communities. The tempest lays bare all our prepackaged ideas and forgetfulness of what nourishes our people’s souls; all those attempts that anaesthetise us with ways of thinking and acting that supposedly “save” us, but instead prove incapable of putting us in touch with our roots and keeping alive the memory of those who have gone before us. We deprive ourselves of the antibodies we need to confront adversity. See here for the full transcript.
When I started this blog, I named it after Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s “Love in the Time of Cholera” because it was a nice title, but also because I was curious about what would happen to relationships during this bizarre time. People predict there will be a baby boom. I wonder. I tried to conduct a survey about what people were doing to adapt in the online dating scene, but I’ve had very little feedback. A gay friend chimed in to tell me that Grindr had a notice about washing your hands (odd) and I hear Tinder has a pop-up that suggests it’s not the time to meet IRL. Bumble, I am told, hasn’t addressed the matter. But people are video dating. On this note, I would like to commend my ex-husband for a particularly creative date. He had a video date with a lady where they both ironed! Combining utility with fun. Excellent.