Buongiorno!
Being Sunday, today was the first day we had nothing scheduled to do. It was a nice break to get to sleep in and leisurely get a start to the day since I don’t imagine having too many of those while I’m here.
My roommate Bri and I had some errands that we wanted to run, so we headed back out to Via del Corso. As typical with Roma, walking through the city is wonderful. We opted for the walk we took to get home the day before, and the city was alive with people. Really for the first time since I’ve arrived. It still wasn’t as crowded as it typically is considering it was the middle of the day on a Sunday.
Shopping in Italy is kind of an experience, but luckily I can get myself around with the minimal words I know. I’m probably most excited for my Italian language course. One of my main goals for this semester is to be as fluent in Italian as possible. I’ve made a habit of practicing with Duolingo and Memrise—two language learning apps—and using the little Italian I know as much as possible.
After our errands, we had a bit of time before I had to get back to go to evening mass, so we decided to get some caffè at Sant’Eustachio. Here I was thinking it would be a couple of days before getting to try their caffè and I was there the following day. The walkability of Roma is truly fantastic.
The cafè was significantly more crowded than yesterday. I wasn’t sure if it was because we were there later in the afternoon or maybe a mass had just gotten out at the nearby church—Basilica di Sant Eustachio in Campo Marzio. On the facade of the basilica, there is a deer head with a cross coming up from its horns, the same logo as the cafè.
I find it funny how unorganized Italian lines look from the outside. Calling it a line doesn’t accurately describe it, it’s more of a jumble of people all clumped together. Being acquainted now, I was able to make my way to the register, pay for my macchiato, and maneuver my way to the bar to order my drink. I was feeling pretty confident about my Italian, and I managed to order without stumbling over my words. At first, the barista responded in Italian, but I couldn’t hear him—which he took to not being able to understand him—and repeated his question in English. He asked if I wanted sugar, which I know is zucchero, I just didn’t hear him the first time.
After our drinks, we headed back to the apartment. Even though I’d walked this route twice already, I was discovering new architecture features and beautiful elements on every building that we passed. On the walk, I could imagine myself calling this city home one day. Of course, this is something my parents probably don’t want to hear, but this place is absolutely beautiful. It’s so much more than I would’ve ever imagined and speaks to something deep inside my soul. Its room in my heart continues to grow each day.
Once back at the apartment, I dropped off most of my stuff then went off to mass. It was an easy tram ride from our apartment. I would’ve walked, but it was so chilly that I decided the tram would be a bit of a break from the cold.
Walking up to the Chiesa di San Francesco a Ripa, I was excited about my first Italian mass. Of course, I was nervous, as anyone probably would be, but I was looking forward to an experience that’s unlike one I’ve ever had.
The church was absolutely stunning. Everything was pristine, shining in the soft light. There were fewer pews than I would have thought from the outside, but it made sense as I looked around at all of the various chapel areas for different saints.
I found myself a seat towards the back. I was a bit early, but the front of the pews were already pretty crowded. Luckily, there was space in the back, allowing me to be mostly out of the way so that I could follow along without necessarily sticking out. Of course, by the time everyone started praying the rosary before the beginning of mass, I was one of a small handful of people under the age of 25, and one of those was a little girl. The majority of the people in mass were these adorable little Italian women, which is exactly what I was expecting.
Praying the rosary in Italian is a cool experience. I have a basic understanding of what they’re saying because it’s the same regardless of the language, but even then it was still a bit challenging to follow along. I know the prayers by heart, but there’s something about trying to follow along in English while everyone else is speaking Italian. I could only imagine what participating in mass would be like.
Thankfully, after the rosary, someone came along and passed out little pamphlets that had the order of the mass. Granted, it was all in Italian, but I had a feeling it’d be a valuable resource to follow along and attempt to blend in.
Finally, the father entered from somewhere behind the altar and everyone rose and sang. Between the stunning surroundings and melodic Italian singing, it was a beautiful start to mass. Thanks to the paper, it was easier to follow along than I would have thought. It was easy enough to follow along with the Penitential Act and Gloria in a fun combination of Italian and English.
The Liturgy of the Word was a bit more difficult. I had a basic understanding of the readings because I had read them beforehand, but even with the readings printing in the pamphlet, it was odd to follow along.
The Homily was another story. I had very little understanding of what the priest was saying. I could pick up a few words here or there, but that was about it. However, it was an incredible experience. Just getting to share in the experience of the priest passionately speaking was wonderful in itself.
The Sign of the Peace was pretty cool. It’s very simple. You just turn to those around you, shake hands, and say “Pace.” “E con il tu spirito” just sounds so much cooler than “And with your spirit.” Also, the sign of the cross sounds fancier: “Nel nome del Padre, e del Figlio, e dello Spirito Santo. Amen.” Same with Jesus Christ, “Gesù Cristo.” Maybe it’s just me or my fascination with the Italian language, but everything sounds just a bit cooler.
Once everyone got up to receive the Eucharist—you guessed it—there was very little organization. Back home, we all wait our turns as the pews empty out from front to back. At school, the pews empty out from back to front. Here in Roma, it wasn’t necessarily a race, but it was a free-for-all. Also, once you get up to the front, it’s just the priest distributing the Eucharist with someone next to him holding a small silver platter to catch the Host if it were to be dropped. Also, they don’t distribute the Blood of Christ. I thought it a bit odd, but there was probably a reason they weren’t distributing it.
Mass ended as all masses do, with the dismissal, which in Italian the priest says “La Messa è finita, andate in pace,” and everyone responds, “Rendiamo grazie a Dio!”
Instead of exiting the church, however, everyone stood up and followed the priest over to the left side of the church. Hanging in the back, I couldn’t exactly see what everyone was surrounding around, but from doing a bit of research on the church beforehand and noticing everyone saying Sant Carlos de Sezze, I could tell they were praying and singing about the saint, who was friar in the area and was stigmatized by the Holy Eucharist in the heart while attending mass. Again, despite not understanding the language, it was a powerful experience to pray and sing alongside everyone.
It wasn’t until after mass when I got home that I looked up Saint Charles. It’s his wax effigy that was on display in the glass tomb. His relics are enshrined under the altar behind the effigy and he is one of the incorruptible saints. I’m not sure if I’ve ever been in such close relation to a saint’s relics before. It was powerful when I walked up and said his prayer next to his effigy after most people had walked away, but the power of it all really sank in after researching this information.
Again, instead of leaving, everyone made their way into a back room. Once again, I followed along. The priest was waiting just inside the doorway, shaking everyone’s hands. When I stepped into the doorway, his face lit up and a smile stretched across his face. I continued exactly tell what he said, but I made out the word bellissima, which means beautiful. He eagerly took my hand into his, firmly shook them, and said something else. All I really said was grazie, padre. I was happy and a bit taken aback to be welcomed so warmly by this priest.
I continued to follow everyone through the back of the church. We walked through a beautiful, dark wood chapel with a small crucifix that was more or less behind the altar. We then walked down a long hallway with a statue of Mary at the entrance. We finally arrived in a back room and stopped. These little old women started pulling out Panettone and a container of hot wine. A different priest from before came in the room to say grace.
Everyone took turns—surprisingly enough—to go up and grab some bread and wine. A couple other women were passing out little chocolates and other small snacks. I just hung out of to the side, observing the routine happening before my eyes. It was quaint. Once mostly everyone had gotten bread, a woman came up to me and handed me a piece then she went and sat down. The panettone was delicious. It was soft and sweet and almost melted in my mouth. The dried fruit inside was good as well.
After finishing my bread, the priest from before came into the room. A solid number of the parishioners came up to talk to him. Everyone involved was incredibly endearing and he treated each person like they were the only person in the room.
He had a break and noticed me off to the side and called me over. I greeted him and asked him how he was doing. He said he was well and then said something I didn’t understand. I explained to him that I was American so I couldn’t speak Italian. He said something else and laughed and the two people next to him laughed as well. I just stood there and smiled. He asked me if I was a student and I said yes again. He asked me my name, and I answered. He responded by saying, “Ahh, Juditto,” and, with as big a smile as before, he pinched my cheek and said something I couldn’t understand. A woman had come up next to me and the priest addressed her. I slipped back off to where I was standing before.
At this point, I was ready to leave but no one else had left yet. I didn’t necessarily feel comfortable leaving out the way I had come in. Luckily, a minute or two later, people had started leaving. For the last time that night, I joined the group of people and made my way out of the back room. The priest was standing by the door saying goodbye to everyone. When I passed him, he smiled, grabbed my hand, and gave me a blessing and did the sign of the cross on my forehead. I thanked him and wished him a good night.
As I stepped out into the hallway, a rush came over me. I was overwhelmed with a general feeling of warmth, a huge smile grew on my face, and water welled up in the corner of my eyes. I just felt so happy and loved, I can’t even explain it fully. And, despite it being below 30 degrees outside, I wasn’t cold on my way home. I was so warm and happy after leaving the church.
Looking back at it now, it felt as if the Holy Spirit washed over me. It was a couple of simple encounters between the priest and myself, but they were so impactful. It is just so wonderful being Catholic. The mutual respect and acceptance between the two of us, despite the language barrier, was so amazing to be a part of. Everything from that night was just so beautiful and impactful, I can’t even think of the right words to describe it all properly.
I truly believe it’s such a blessing that I’ve been Catholic all of my life. My first mass in Italy could not have been more special. It’s left me with a pleasure, confidence, and reassuarance that my time in Roma will be like nothing I’ve ever experienced, in the best way possible.
Ciao!
Jodee
Tempesta's Travels 
Bella 🙏🏻. Mi rendi orgoglioso. 😘
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