Blog post no 8
Oh my, I am so far behind! There have been so many things happening over the past week that I have not been able to keep up-to-date with the blog. So sorry one and all (and I am sure that for some it s blessed relief!) There has been a great deal of Australian media interest in our travels and this has taken some time and energy. On occasions, we have not arrived back from our day's tours until quite late and this has left very little time to write. The days are quite draining. One or two internet connection problems haven't helped. Tried typing on the bus once (didn't work) and then had a go at writing longhand (and was almost sick) so I am trying to get back on track and doing the best to read my scrawly notes.
Loreto is one of the most visted sacred Catholic sites in the world. The main reason for that is that in its majectic Cathedral is what is believed to be the actual house that the Holy Family lived IN during their time in Nazareth. It had been transported here after being situated in other countries over the past two thousand years but it is now located in this exquisite little medieval town that is perched atop of a mighty hill.
The Holy House is right in the middle of the Cathedral. It is now a small chapel, with only a few candles for lighting. On the wall behind the altar is a stunning statuette of the Black Madonna with the infant Jesus in her arms. I was struck at once by this image of a black Mary and am determined to find out more about it. That investigation is still to come. I suspect that our very knowledgable guide probaby covered it in her commentary but I am sure it would come as no surprise to you to learn that I missed that.
I sat in the chapel for about 10 minutes listening and trying very hard to pray in a way that was approriate for where I was (I wonder why I think like that...). I placed my hands on the walls and tried to 'feel' or 'sense' the holy presence but nothing profoundly deep and spiritual registered within. Still, it was beautiful and serene. I was deeply moved by a young man with Downs Syndrome who stood sobbing quietly at the front of the altar with his hand also on the wall. He didn't want to leave when motioned to by his carer who I suspect was his father, but eventually he did go outside. When I got up to leave a few minutes later, he was coming back in.
Was there a spiritual conenction for me at Loreto? Kind of, but I have to be honest and say that it was a not a profound one. To understand what it means to be in what could have been the house where Jesus would have lived and slept is not an easy experience to descibe. The more humble structure somehow appealled to me more than the majesty of the massive cathedrals and basilicas that are so common in this extraordinary country. To be honest, I don't know what I should feel or even what I should expect to feel when I enter these sacred places. Maybe your reaction to what you come out with is subeject to what you take in with you. Can anyone help here?
I strolled around the town for an hour, bought a few little things, took some pics and then headed back to the bus. It was a greyish day and my own mood was unsettled. I am beginning to understand what many famous religious scholars and mystics mean when they talk about peace and contentment coming only when we are able to clear our mind of everything and focus on what matters above all - which for them is their love of and devotion to God. I am neither scholar nor mystic and when it comes to possessing a deep faith, compared to them, I am swimming in the shallow end of the pool (sometimes, when my head is above water, I can see the deeper end - it is very blue) but I sense that this is true. A cluttered mind full of the things unresolved really has no room for anything sacred...
Inadequately yours
Mark
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