Recent History, the Last Week in Ordinary Time, and Miscellaneous

Last Thursday, Thanksgiving Day, Kevin and I did indeed end up at the North American College, as planned. Beautiful Mass and a wonderful turkey dinner, with the much-anticipated pumpkin pie topping off the evening. This year it was introduced by none other than Elvis - apparently he didn't die, but instead chose to disguise himself as a seminarian of southeast-Asian descent. I would supply the very entertaining Thanksgiving-filled lyrics from this appearance of the King, but my Elvis repertoire isn't that good . . .

Friday we roasted two chickens plus a pair of chicken legs, and miraculously baked an apple pie. Apple pies are supposed to take (and in my experience do take) between 40 and 50 minutes to bake, but when we stuck the pie in the oven, we had around twenty minutes before we needed to head out the door to catch the train into Rome to celebrate Thanksgiving with a gaggle of friends. So we prayed. The pie was done in something under half an hour - perfectly done - and we made the train on time, chickens, legs, and pie in hand.

Continuing the theme of food, dinner Sunday night goes down as a meal to remember. A good friend and mentor of sorts of Kevin's, Dave B., came into town over the weekend on business and treated us to dinner at the Hotel Hassler, which sits atop the Spanish Steps. The Imàgo restaurant is itself atop the hotel (indoors), so the result is a breathtaking view of Rome. Great food, great company - great to finally meet Dave, about whom I'd heard so much - great view, great evening. Great big seagulls, too, perched out on the windowsill toward the end of our meal - two of them. The size of small cats. (They could each have eaten your Little Man whole when you first got him, dear Archibalds.) I never thought I'd say "noble" of a seagull, but it fit these birds.

Sunday was Christ the King Sunday, which also means that this is the last week of Ordinary Time - the Church is approaching her own new year's eve this Saturday. That also means that this is a week I've been anticipating for the whole year - it's the week of Dies Irae, a now-neglected Gregorian chant sequence once sung at Catholic funerals and on All Souls' Day, reminding everyone of the Divine Judge and our total dependence on Jesus' mercy. This is the week of Dies Irae because this week it is the recommended hymn for sections of the Liturgy of the Hours as we contemplate the end of the world, the Last Things, the Final Judgment.

It is a tremendous chant - you can hear the deep rolls of thunder, the sounding of the last trumpets, and see the red clouds boil in as the flaming chariot bearing Christ the Just Judge overshadows the Vittorio Emanuele Monument. You see the setting of my Apocalypse . . . It's taken a little bit of a beating this year because the monument is undergoing renovations & is shrouded in scaffolding and plastic - somewhat anti-climactic. Ah well. There's still the Dies Irae.