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 beyond 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– — –!.”