What’s in a name?

"We are going to St. Peters-burg today," I commented. 

My friends gently corrected me. We were going to St. Peter's Basilica.  St. Petersburg... is in Russia.

We arrived at the great church early in the morning. I was most amazed by the color of the interior. I had visited some cathedrals in England and was expecting, based on my experience, the hard grey of ancient stones. Instead I was greeted by marble in hues of light red and black, and painted ceilings lined with golden gilding. It far surpassed my expectations.

A dome... not the big one...

I saw a copy of this in Dallas!

A mass was held for the UD students in one of the corners. The priest spoke mostly on  Isaiah 62, and the new name God's people would receive. A name is very important. The priest talked about how now that we have come to study abroad we could receive new names and titles, such as 'Rome-er', 'traveler', and 'cosmopolitan.' He said that now, at the beginning of the semester, we could try on new nicknames. And most importantly, he concluded by speaking of the new identity we have in Christ.

It reminded me of the passage in Revelation which tell us that everyone will receive a white stone with a name that will be known only to them and God. There is a massive tree on the campus, and sprinkled around it are the stones of the purest white, shining and made glistening by the recent rain. I think of that passage when I see this.

After we left St. Peter's, we were given tours of Rome by the professors and RA's. I was in Sister Catherine’s group. She is our theology professor, and, as her title implies, a nun.

She had originally planned on walking us through some quiet streets of Rome, but plans changed due to the rain. It wasn't raining hard, in fact, I found it rather pleasant and refreshing. At any rate, We spent most of our time in churches and buildings. Sister Catherine knows a lot about the different churches, and of the saints whose bones are kept there (nearly every church has a relic of some sort).

Perhaps one of my favorite churches was St. Andrew's church. We were passing by and our guide pointed it out. On account of the name, my friend Andrew and I decided to quickly enter and see the interior. It had a beautiful painting of the martyrdom of Andrew at the back end. I liked this painting so much that I think this was my favorite church, even more so than St. Peter's, though I could be biased.

(They say he preached for days up there before he died.) 

As St. Peter is associated with the Roman Catholic Church, St. Andrew is said to be the founder of the Eastern churches.

His bones are probably in Russia.

Flying off

"Say something funny, Andrew,” my mom said. “CJ came all this way to see you to the airport, you can’t leave without making her laugh.”

“Funny how?” I replied, quoting one of our favorite TV shows.

“I knew you would say that!” My sister smiled as she burst out in triumph.

I suppose that my jokes have been getting predictable recently. It seems that more and more my little sister is able to know what I will say ahead of time, and what tone of voice I will use. Sometimes she even seems to know what I am going to say before I say it.

We eventually arrived at the airport and my mother went to park the car while my sister came to help me check in. It was a good thing too, since she helped me figure out how to use the machine. I approached an unused machine. It stared at me with nothing but a blank. A blank with which I was to fill the requisite information. I began slowly, meticulously typing the word "Philadelphia," the place where I would board the plane to Rome and leave behind the United States and everything that was familiar.

“Andrew,” CJ said, “you're supposed to type your name.”

I slowly, meticulously, laboriously pressed backspace 7 or 8 times. (Why does Philadelphia have to be so long!) With that embarrassing mistake taken care of, I promptly proceeded to misspell my last name… and push enter.

CJ had to show me how to restart.

I eventually managed to check in, and my mother soon joined us to say our final farewells. They walked me as far as they could and left me in the line for airport security. It was a rather long line, but rather than simply leave the airport as I crept my way through security, they apparently decided that they wanted to watch my slow progress through an uneventful line. So they stayed and watched from the balcony above. Seeing them standing there I did what anyone else would do. I waved. And they waved back. Fifteen seconds later they were still there, so I waved. They waved back. We performed the ritual every few steps. I waved they waved back. Take 5 steps. I waved they waved back. Five more steps. Sometimes we would shake things up a bit and they would wave to me first. It was rapidly becoming apparent that our communication was limited to waving.

I soon noticed my mother was playing with a small shiny object which I suspected was a camera. This made me think about how nice it would be to have a final picture for my blog. So I took out my camera and as I rounded the final bend I turned back to take a quick picture.  I suppose that my little sister must have thought this situation rather funny, for I soon heard the faded sound of her distant laughter.  And so I left.

(CJ told me how to post this picture)

Testing, Testing 1… 2… 3…

Well, I’m getting ready to spend a semester studying in Rome, and part of the preparation includes starting a blog. It seems like everyone I know wants me to keep in touch and tell them about my experience. Rather than keeping a long list of people to send emails to, I decided it would be easier to keep a blog. Of course, I never had a blog before, and I’m not entirely certain about how to proceed.

That’s the primary reason for this post. I want to figure out how blogging works while I am still home and can ask questions of my little sister (who has been blogging for some time now). She’s the one who helped me set up this blog in the first place, and showed me how to change the background… and add those side-bar thingies… and how to post … and a lot of other things which I don’t remember how to do.

In retrospect, it might have been easier just to send everybody emails. Still, emails are like letters, and I always have a hard time writing letters. In contrast, a blog allows me to simply ramble on about this and that until I feel like I’ve said enough. And I have probably already said enough for this post since it is only supposed to be a test post, and since I am still packing and preparing for Rome and don’t have anything to say except,  “Hey there, I’m starting a blog…” which you already know…   because you are reading it…

Now excuse me while I ask my little sister how to post this…